A Mage Out of History Abandoned
by BadVoodoo
Summary: War looming on the horizon with Voldemort on the rise, Harry finds new allies and is offered the opportunity to meet his full potential. Magic and Fate have other idea's for Harry's life. Abandoned
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JKR, she keeps him locked in a cupboard and feeds him through a cat flap.**

_**Prologue **_

Harry groaned slightly as light filled the room, interrupting his slumber. Throwing his arm over his eyes, he rolled away from the source of the light only to groan again as his other senses slowly awakened. The first thing he noticed was off feel of the smooth material below him as he shifted his body, this was followed quickly by the pleasant scent of new leather that filled his nostrils, and finally by the sound of an unfamiliar man quietly clearing his throat.

Any thought of playing possum or attempting to surprise the man were quickly discarded as the man spoke, "Good Morning Mr. Potter, I trust you slept well?" Receiving no response, he went on, "I do apologize about the accommodations, but I'm afraid my sofa was the best available location, as we didn't expect you to still be asleep when you were summoned."

Harry, half dressed and with messier than usual hair, sat up and blinked owlishly. Unable to think of anything else to say, and not sensing any immediate danger, despite waking up in an odd location, he answered, "Um…sorry. Do you happen to…" he made a motion indicating he was talking about his glasses.

"Of course Mr. Potter," the man replied affably and pointed to the small end table to Harry's left where sat his glasses, a shirt and his wand. "I apologize for my lack of manners, but I'm afraid I cannot leave you alone to get changed, though do allow me to introduce myself. My name is Commodore William Bligh of Her Majesties Royal Magical Guard, or the magical branch of the Royal Marines."

At that pronouncement, Harry took his first good look at him as he finally put his glasses on. Though the Commodore was sitting behind a desk, it was obvious that he was fit, of slightly above average height with light brown hair and steely grey eyes. His face had the look of a man who spent a great deal of time in the outdoors, for his skin looked weather-beaten, despite this, the man looked freshly shaven and was dressed impeccably. Harry figured his age to be mid to late 60's, after taking into account that wizards aged slower than Muggles.

"I trust I pass muster," Bligh said and laughed heartily at Harry's sheepish look. "To business then," he stated after he had finished laughing. "Mr. Potter, we find ourselves in a highly unusual situation and, given your previous involvement with delicate situations, we are hoping to recruit you to lead a team at Hogwarts; with your primary mission will be to gather intelligence on several persons of interest. Secondarily and as much for training as for actual need, you and your team would scour the school for dark artifacts and destroy them. You would of course be trained for both missions, along with the physical and magical combat training all Royal Magical Guards receive."

The question 'Why me?' flitted to the front of Harry's mind, but was quickly dismissed as the answer was obvious, no matter how much he might wish otherwise. "Who would be on this team? When would we train? What sort of commitment would I be making if I agree?"

"Very good," Bligh replied, "learning to look before you leap is a hard earned lesson for men like you and I. To answer your questions, in reverse order; your final two years at Hogwarts, after which you may be invited to reenlist, you would train this summer, starting tomorrow and an appropriate cover for your training will be made, and there are several individuals we had in mind, some of whom have turned down our recruiting pitch," here, the Commodore gave him a significant look that clearly said at least Ron or Hermione was among those who refused the training, "while others have risen to the challenge,"

"Why would we need a cover?" Harry asked, ignoring for now his concerns over the lack of answer for who might be on his team should he decide to accept. "And what happens to me if I decline?"

Commodore Bligh frowned slightly, "The Mages, as we are more commonly known amongst ourselves, are not a part of the magical world," he sighed and explained, "the ministry of magic, and the population at large drive the magical society to be very insular. There is just reason for such a drive, but it has also had long reaching consequences. After World War Two and Grindelwald, allied forces discovered several 'death camps' where people were sent to labor unto death or to just die. While it is unknown if Grindelwald was behind creating the camps, it is known that he took advantage of them, amassing a vast army of Inferii, numbering nearly a million strong. Had any magical nation been paying attention; that amount of dark magic would have been easily noticeable from anywhere in the world. As it was, the Inferii caves were not discovered until after Grindelwald was defeated. They are now the most magically guarded location on earth as the Inferii, when Grindelwald no longer could control them, became savage zombies. This protection has only been breached once, by Voldemort, in the late 1950's." He paused, "I'm sorry, I've gone off track. My point is that this was a magical event too large to hide from the Muggle governments involved. It was at that time that the official channel between the Ministry of Magic and the Prime Minister was opened. The arrogance of the magical prevailed yet again and the then Minister of Magic treated Winston Churchill like an imbecile junior partner when Churchill requested information on the magical population. After his election defeat in 1945, Churchill took it upon himself to make inroads into the magical world, this idea developed into a magical infantry to protect against internal magical terrorists and foreign magical threats. In 1951, Churchill, once again prime minister, proposed his idea to the King George VI and together they worked to implement what is now the Royal Magical Guard, until the King's death."

"I still don't understand sir," Harry said as he thought over the information he had just learned.

"The Mages is a magical organization that exists outside of the control or influence of the Ministry of Magic and as such, according to the same ministry, is an illegal organization. Few who were not Mages themselves know of our existence and those that do understand the necessity of our existence," Bligh answered, "membership in such an organization, to the ministry, is tantamount to a violation of the secrecy of magic and treason all rolled into one. Fortunately, we have a grand cover. As to your second question, should you decide not to accept our recruitment pitch, you will be Obliviated thoroughly and returned home none the wiser." Bligh took a breath, and continued, "I realize this is a lot to absorb in a short amount of time, and there is more. What training involves, who your actual team would be, what assignments are available during the summer months, your pay, what assignments are available after your first tour of duty should you wish to reenlist, what happens to you if you do not reenlist and maybe more importantly to you, what we are doing to combat Voldemort. Before we get into any of that though, I need to know if you are seriously considering joining up, or if you should wake up at home in a few minutes, with no idea that you were even here."

For a long while Harry sat silently and considered his options and Commodore Bligh seemed content to let him do so. On the one hand, any additional training, particularly in dealing with combat and the destruction of dark artifacts was exactly the sort of thing he felt he needed so that next time he faced Voldemort he didn't need to hide behind Dumbledore or anybody else; he could stand on his own. On the other hand, he realized that as much information that he had just learned, he had essentially been kidnapped, and while he had a general overview of what was going on, he still lacked a great deal of the details. There was a definite appeal to being able to practice magic over the summer and to get paid to do it, but again, there was a commitment of two years of his life to this organization and that commitment entailed what was tantamount to treason against the Ministry of Magic. Eventually, Harry decided on his course and answered, "I'm interested, just how far into this can I go before I'm committed to go through with it?"

"Good question lad," Bligh answered, "up until the two week mark, you can drop and be Obliviated of all that happens. You will be under the impression that you did an internship with the Department of Mysteries, and as that department is so secretive by nature, nobody will ever be able to validate that claim one way or the other. After that, you will have absorbed too much knowledge and your physical shape will be too significantly different for you to drop the program, though you may decide up until week 6 not to become an active duty Mage. In that case you would not be Obliviated, but would sign a confidentiality contract and would be subject to be called upon for active duty in the event that you were needed."

"How long is the training, in total?" Harry asked as he mentally figured out how many weeks were left in the summer.

"Standard basic training for a Royal Marine is 32 weeks. For a Mage, its 26 weeks as the physical requirements are not critical and through use of a potions regiment we can accelerate the process, for you and your team, it will be compressed into 12. This will be accomplished by skipping a lot of the special equipment training; mostly electronics and firearms, bypassing the Muggle emersion training and adding individual specialization training over the last 2 weeks. The make up of the team allows us to accelerate the magical and intellectual training, and to augment it by adding field training by your commanding officer, Captain Filius Flitwick, who has been recalled to active duty at his own request," Bligh answered. "If it makes you feel better about the whole thing, Captain Flitwick requested to be reactivated and provided us a short list of candidates he felt would be acceptable for this mission."

"Actually," Harry responded, "it does make me feel a bit better about all this," he paused, "tell me everything."

"Everything is an awful lot," Bligh laughed, "Let's start with your team. Flitwick provided the following list, all 6th years: Abbot, Bones, Brown, Corner, Cornfoot, Granger, Davis, Li, Longbottom, Padma Patil, Potter, Turpin, Urquhart, and Weasley. Corner and Cornfoot were eliminated without attempts to recruit them, Li and Patil were eliminated as they are not British citizens, Abbot, Brown, Granger, and Weasley turned down our recruitment pitch, leaving you with Bones, Davis, Longbottom, Turpin and Urquhart. This is fortunate as a 6 person Mage team is the ideal size."

"Your training will be spread over four evolutions and will not be easy," the Commodore continued seriously, "The first evolution will be two weeks long, it will consist of physical conditioning and unarmed combat as well as magical accuracy, speed and endurance. The second evolution will last 4 weeks and will include curse breaking, alternate magical disciplines, enchantments, dark magic, offensive and defensive magic, surveillance techniques and so on. The third evolution is also 4 weeks and is focused on learning to work effectively as a team in any environment and facing any mission type. This will include battle planning and tactics, infiltration, ward breaking, warding and team combat. The final evolution will be the specialization training, what you specialize in will be determined over the 10 weeks of training," he looked Harry straight in the eyes, "For you, as an officer, it will be harder as you must learn it all with them, but also be able to lead them. They must be willing to follow you."

After letting Harry digest that bit of information, he continued, "For your team, summer assignments for next year would include completing the training you would be skipping this summer, then likely guard duty for a royal or high level diplomat." Harry nodded in understanding, "Your pay will be 116 Galleons per week, you will have full medical, dental and vision insurance and the provisional rank of Mage 1st class, roughly equivalent to Lieutenant, pending completion of your training next summer. If you continue on as a career Mage, you would be eligible for a pension plan and continued training at University if you so choose. We take care of our soldiers."

"Training is held at the Pendragon Magical Commando Training Centre for Royal Mages. Options for assignments, if you enlist then reenlist; can be discussed at that time, as our duties are fluid and ever changing. If you do not re-up, you are still bound by your privacy oath. You may be subject to recall in the event of a high level emergency if it is determined you would be better suited for a role in the Mages than where you are at that time."

"And finally; Voldemort, we have been reluctant to step in and do anything to this point as it risks our men being tried for treason by the ministry and he had, to that point, yet to make any overt moves. Now that he is out in the open and a sufficient cover has been is in the works for our teams, we will shortly begin moving openly against him and his followers, regardless of how innocent the ministry claims they are. We have, after the last mass breakout from Azkaban, placed assets within the apparition ward borders to prevent further break out and escape attempts. These assets were in place when the dementors defected and managed to imprison the majority of them, though some hundred were able to escape."

"Why didn't you just form a vigilante group with a token ministry flunky or a pureblood as the leader, it worked for Dumbledore," Harry asked.

"That's exactly what we're doing now," Bligh said with a sigh, "and it's embarrassing that you're the second teenager to point out that particular loophole in the last week. Pity Ms. Granger opted not to join up." Shaking his head, he redirected the conversation, "Do you have any other questions for me, or do you think you have enough information from which to make your decision."

"Just one more question," Harry replied, "why the kidnapping?"

"We are a covert operation," Bligh answered, "some discretion was necessary. We just happen to go to the extreme. You have also been time turned by three hours to allow for enough time for our recruitment pitch. Besides, it fits the cover of an internship at the Department of Mysteries. Nothing those guys do could be considered normal or rational, kidnapping underage wizards and witches included."

Harry laughed slightly, only to realize that Bligh was serious.

"So, moment of truth," Bligh stated, "do we move you into the barracks with the others, or do you get Obliviated and go back to sleep?"

It was at that moment that Harry's true impulsive nature decided it had been dormant for far too long, "I guess I should go meet my team," he answered.

**Thank you to the people who helped me with this story either directly or indirectly. Thank you to everyone on the FFA forums.**

**Thanks to VoodooLady, VoodooMom and Meg for beta reading this.**

**I will be responding to comments and questions directly on the forums at **


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JKR, she keeps him locked in a cupboard and feeds him through a cat flap.**

_**CHAPTER 1**_

The only part of the first four weeks of training that Harry had enjoyed was meeting his team the day he had been recruited. Bligh, or as the team would come to know him, Commodore Mutiny, had led Harry to a fair sized room with six cots, each with a nightstand with a digital clock and trunks pressed against the bottoms. The floor was uncarpeted, painted cement, and the whole barrack had a single connected bathroom.

He had been greeted happily by Neville Longbottom and Susan Bones, mildly by Lisa Turpin and with indifference by Tracey Davis and Kevin Urquhart. Harry snorted as he derisively thought 'the house system doesn't bias people at all'.

After the greetings had been made, the Commodore had introduced a middle aged man with short, graying hair, wire rim glasses and a bookish air about him, and dressed in camouflage robes of all things, as Captain Rupert Payne. The Captain greeted the group genially and departed followed by Mutiny informed them that their meals would be delivered by house elves, and left the group to their own devices for the day; with the caveat that lights out was 10 PM, literally.

Harry had started that day trying to make sure to include everyone in any group activity, and not let anyone break off into smaller groups, much as he had in the DA. While not outwardly hostile, Tracey and Kevin were not interested in interacting with the others overmuch. Lisa seemed content to observe the group rather than participate in any conversation.

During the two weeks of the first evolution the group would be awoken at 6, would run for 2 hours, eat, do PT for another hour, then do wand work and target practice until lunch. After lunch, they would join the Mages regulars, as Payne called them, and march, sometimes in formal formation, other times with gear, or rocks in their packs, for mile upon mile. On day's they didn't do long marches, they ran the obstacle course, did PT, learned basic physical combat and anything else the Drill Instructors could come up that was both hard and potentially painful until dinner, after which they were free for the evening, which generally meant showering, then falling into bed, at least at first. Slowly, as their bodies began adjusting and the potions they were being fed began taking effect, they would sit and talk while polishing their wands and boots or icing, heating or otherwise treating various aches and pains.

The second phase of training, much to the recruits' relief, was much lighter on physical training. They still woke at 6 and ran for 2 hours, ate then had PT for another hour afterwards and they still worked on spell placement and accuracy. This part of the training was different than before as in addition they worked on situational spell selection and expanding their arsenal of curses, hexes and jinxes as well as spell-chaining, which was a casting technique used to increase casting speed. After lunch, they were led to a classroom, and introduced to Commander Francis Bacon.

Commander Bacon gave them an overview on what the subject of his tutelage would be for the next few weeks; alternate forms of magic. He spoke to them about harnessing Chi energy through the Chakra's, Wicca, Shamanism, Runic Magic, Voodoo and Hoodoo, Ritual Magic, Summoning, Enchanting, Dark and Black Magic, Elemental and Nature Magic, Mind Magic and so on.

"The first and very possibly most useful bit of magic I'm to teach you about has its root in Wicca." Bacon said, in a crisp and compelling voice, "Wiccan magic, contrary to popular belief, is not all a bunch of ignorant Muggle tripe. Though, to be fair to the bigoted pureblood agenda, some elements of it are; but like many things of Muggle legend therein lays a grain of truth. This type of magic is best suited for protection and defense as it requires preparation and only a minor amount of magical power to be effective. There is a price, however, when it is used negatively; Wiccan magic follows its own rules. Keep this in mind if and when you use it, for it is the rule universally accepted by all Wiccan practitioners; 'an it do no harm do as thou wilt.'"

The Commander continued on, explaining the various types of magic and the uses of what he would teach from each, holding the group spellbound by his enthusiasm and knowledge of the subjects. Kevin said it best, as they were released for dinner, "that's one man I wouldn't want to meet down Knockturn Alley at night." Nobody disagreed.

Unlike the previous weeks, after dinner the group spent an hour doing PT and half an hour doing physical combat training before being released for the evening.

The next day, the instructor had explained the differences between dark and black magic: "Dark magic is magic with ill intent; that is to harm or even kill, but that falls within the rules of life and death and the laws of nature. Black magic, however, by definition is a corruption of the natural order of things; its entire purpose is to pervert existence. While dark magic, up to and including the Cruciatus and Killing curses, can be sickening to perform, there is no tangible price for doing so. Black magic, however, has many costs; it's addictive, psychologically twists an individual, can take a physical toll like premature aging or sacrifice of self and can even tarnish your soul."

"But what about the unforgivable curses," Susan asked, "How are they not black magic? I have always heard that using them twisted a person, that you had to feel anger and hatred to use them and that you had to want to cause pain and death for them to work!"

"Of course you have to want to cause pain or death to use them, nearly all wand magic is intent driven," Bacon explained, "you have to want to levitate a feather or change a needle into a toothpick too! Emotions simply help focus and drive the willpower; for magic intending to do harm emotions like rage, anger and hatred sharpen focus and determination. When we cover mind magic, we will explore more in depth how your emotional state affects your magic and how clarity through your emotions can make you a far more formidable magic user."

And so the course went; Commander Bacon would take the group through new, unexplored and utterly compelling types of magic. Sometimes pointing out how they overlapped into other realms of magic and other times pointing out similarities between mind magic and Muggle meditation. It was the most riveting magical instruction Harry had ever experienced and he couldn't help but think that Hermione, had she known the breadth of magic she might have been paid to learn about, may very well have wet her pants, one way or another.

----

Two weeks into Phase II, the group was slated for their first LWEL, or long week end leave. They would be allowed to leave the base, enter or even stay in Lympstone or wherever else they wanted to go, considering the ease of transportation for magical people, provided they returned on or by midday the following Monday.

It was an odd sort of feeling to wake up under your own power, Harry thought as he slowly sat up in his bunk. Glancing at the digital clock at his bedside, he only barely managed to suppress a groan as the red LED readout mocked him with its 6:04 and little dot indicative of it being AM. Glancing about, he noticed each of his teammates in various stages of bitter wakefulness.

Everyone was awake, dressed and ready for their weekend, breakfast had been served and consumed and it was naught but 8:15 in the morning. Regardless of the fact that few things teenagers or soldiers might enjoy being open that early in the day, the six-some began the two mile walk into town.

"So," Susan, the ever perky, strawberry blonde diminutive dynamo began, "what's everybody doing today?"

"I haven't given it much thought," Neville admitted, "been focused so much on the training that I haven't spared time to consider what I'd do if I survived to this point." Everyone chuckled, "I guess I could go to see my Gran, maybe spend the weekend tending to my garden," he continued, "I don't know, it just doesn't really appeal."

"I'm going to take the Knight Bus to London and go shopping," Tracey stated imperiously, "maybe go to a spa and try to remember what it's like being a girl."

"You're a girl?" Kevin asked, looking the slim girl, with dark pixie cut haired up and down suggestively, "I never noticed that about you before." Tracey simply gave him a two fingered salute.

"What about you Kevin?" Susan pressed.

"I dunno really," he replied, shaking his head and flicking his shoulder length black hair about, "I'm doing whatever Potter's doing," he decided, "so what are you doing Potter?"

"Yeah, come on boss," Lisa chimed in, "inquiring minds want to know."

Harry shook his head at the nickname Lisa had decided on for him and answered her, "I'm going to get a room near a good pub, wander the town, maybe go to the cinema and take time to be somebody who has that luxury."

"Not a bad idea, Potter. I approve. We can do that, you don't have to think up anything else," Kevin drawled.

"I think I'll join you as well," Neville piped up, "I don't really want to try to explain to my Gran where I've been or that I'm going back like it or not."

"Well, I for one think Tracey has the right idea. With what they're paying us, I've got oodles of galleons to spend and I deserve to be pampered," Lisa decided, "mind if I tag along?"

"Me too," Susan chirped.

"I suppose I could let you," Tracey replied, her pleased smile belying the put upon tone of her voice.

So it went that the group ceased their aimless walk and summoned the Knight Bus, the girls going to London and the guys to a squib run pub and inn in Cornwall that Kevin had had a drink once when flooing from there to go to a Falmouth Falcons Quidditch game.

After promising their female Mage counterparts that they would reserve rooms for them Harry, Neville and Kevin departed the Knight Bus in front of the Black Falcon Pub and Inn.

The trio walked into the nearly empty pub, which was decorated with a lot of earth tones with well worn wooden tables and unobtrusive lighting. They quickly arranged for their rooms, took a table in the corner and ordered some pub fare for breakfast.

After breakfast, they wandered around town for the day, went to the cinema, and ultimately decided that between cheap lager, darts, snooker and football on the telly, there wasn't much reason to leave the pub for the rest of the weekend.

The girls joined them in the evenings and were off during the days for shopping and spa's and tea and crumpets for all they knew. It was, overall, a startlingly normal weekend for Harry and in the end, the time spent away from training did the teams overall ability to interact some good.

-----

"You wanted to see me sir," Harry said standing at attention. He had been summoned to Commodore Bligh's office as soon as he had returned to base.

"At ease Potter," the man said, gazing intently up at the boy-who-lived, though he said nothing more and seemed content not to. For his part, Harry had always been uncomfortable under close scrutiny and this was no different.

Harry broke the silence first, "sir?"

"Potter, why are you holding out on your instructors?" Bligh asked bluntly.

"I'm sorry sir?" Harry replied, confused.

"You should be Potter," the Commodore replied, deliberately misinterpreting Harry's meaning, "we have all of your testing from your first week, we know more what you should be capable of than you do, you could be special, why are you holding out on us?"

"I'm not special," Harry immediately responded, "I've never been special and I've never wanted to be special. I just want to be a normal wizard."

The man gave him an unreadable look. "Pity," he said, "dismissed."

"Sir?" Harry was confused at exactly what the conversation meant but wanted answers.

"I said dismissed, Potter," Bligh said, steel lacing his voice, "It's obvious you're more like the Dursley chap you claim to despise than the officer I thought I was getting."

"What are you talking about?" Harry nearly shouted, then belatedly adding, "Sir". Really! Comparing him to the Dursley's was preposterous; it was insulting.

Bligh's normally pleasant appearance was nowhere to be found when the man rose to his impressive height; in its place was the hardened aura of a warrior. "You're parroting the Dursley party line, Potter," the man said derisively, the continued in a mocking voice, "I just want to be perfectly normal, perfectly average."

Harry wanted to rail against the accusation, wanted to tell the Commodore off, that he was nothing like the Dursley's, he just wasn't special like everybody though he was. But he couldn't; not after being slapped in the face with such information. Introspection is a funny thing, and for some people it takes seeing things through another's eyes before they can take an honest look at themselves.

Bligh smirked as Harry's face showed first indignation, then horror and finally comprehension. "You're dismissed, Potter," he ordered, in an affable voice.

-----

The changes in Harry's attitude towards training were not immediately noticeable, but by the end of the third week of Phase II, it was apparent to him and to his teammates just how much he had been holding himself back. His skills with a wand increased in leaps and bounds as he took to the training the same way he'd taken to flying.

On every run and at every PT he pushed himself harder and further, going so far as to repeatedly injure himself pushing his body to do things beyond his capabilities and doing them anyhow. Though he was no more attentive to Commander Bacon than he was previously, having been fascinated by the man, he became more active in the discussions and learning of magic there too, actively asking questions and clarifying how each branch of magic worked.

By the beginning of week five, his initial rush to prove the Commodore wrong had abated, and Harry no longer frequently pushed himself to injury while running or during PT, but he was no less intense and voracious in and out of the classroom. His sudden surge had a dramatic affect on his team. Suddenly, their leader was showing why he was chosen to be so; suddenly, their previous performances in and out of classes were no longer adequate. So, as Harry had before, they each began pushing themselves beyond what they had thought themselves capable.

The transition from Phase II to Phase III saw several changes in the daily training regimen. The morning run was reduced to one hour and followed by an hour of PT. Breakfast came next and was followed by the physical obstacle course, the magical obstacle course and continued spell selection and target practice. The last was now augmented by dragon hide wand holsters and quick draw training, long distance casting and silent casting. The time spent with Bacon evolved from all theory to theory and practical; from the exotic Wiccan protection spells, Voodoo and Hoodoo curses, Nature magic, Occlumency, Empathy and Legilimency; to the more common magic of putting up wards, curse breaking, and surveillance and tracking spells; to the morbid, dark magic, curses, hexes, the unforgivable curses and similarly vile legal alternatives.

Phase III brought one other change, the entire team was at varying days and times, given mock missions to complete. From patrolling the grounds in the dead of night and setting a watch an overnight watch at an encampment, to infiltration missions in varying environments and conditions seemingly from all over the world. The missions were brutal and were not often successful, at first, as they were ambushed on their patrols, tripped wards and traps, got separated and captured or spent so much time devising a plan of action that they were discovered.

Harry took the dressing down from Payne for all of the mission failures, stating to the Captain that as the team leader the blame fell directly on his shoulders alone. While berating Harry and his team for their faults, however, Payne pointed out what they'd done wrong and as the missions progressed, becoming more difficult, the team began figuring out how to work together, to utilize each individual's strengths and compensate for their own weaknesses.

The group succeeded in a mission on their fifth try. Though at times very challenging, with each victory, the team's confidence grew and with it, their ability to improvise and work together to accomplish the goals set for them.

On the last day of their tenth week, Captain Payne had decided they were ready for whatever the sadistic but understated man considered 'fun' as a sort of graduation test slash present. He merely smiled and told them to be prepared for anything. This was why the six would be Mages had moved their bunks, trunks and end tables together, forming a small bunker of sorts in the most defensible position in the barracks. They sat wands in hand, staring in paranoia into the darkness long after lights out.

"I think he's messing with us, getting us to sit up all night so they can grind us into the ground tomorrow when we're sleep deprived," Kevin drawled in that way Slytherins all seemed to instinctively know from birth.

"I'm not terribly fond of that idea, but it sounds like something Payne would do," Susan added; her normally pleasant voice held a hard edge.

"I don't think so," Harry replied, "I think it's more likely that Payne, or somebody who reports to him, is watching us. If we go to sleep now, they pounce, then after humiliating us they grind us into the ground; if we stand watch, they'll just grind us into the ground tomorrow…or try to," Harry finished with a growl. The aggressive training had certainly done nothing but encourage his more assertive qualities.

"But that's not going to happen," he continued, "we'll sleep in shifts, 4 of us asleep and 2 on watches at any given time. Who absolutely can't handle middle shift; two hours down, two up, two down?"

"We could probably sleep 3 down 3 up every two hours Harry," Neville suggested.

"Best to have 4 of down at any given time when we don't know what's coming Nev, we'll need our rest." Harry countered. "Besides, if he comes while you're asleep, I expect your sorry arses to be up and ready to fight within a couple of seconds."

"Alright, I'll take second shift," Lisa volunteered, "I don't mind."

"Anybody else volunteering?" Harry queried, when nobody did, he continued, "You and me then Lisa. Kevin, Tracey, do you want first or last watch?"

"We'll take last watch," Tracey volunteered for the pair.

"Nev, Susan, you two are up first, wake us in two hours," his orders given, Harry lay down and quickly fell to sleep. A very short seeming two hours later, he was awoken for his turn at watch. Neville and Susan sat up with them a moment to talk.

"The best we can figure it Harry," Neville began, nodding at Susan, "is that we're most likely to be attacked between 0300 and 0400. It's the deepest part of the night; we're most vulnerable then, even with a watch."

"It makes sense boss," Lisa chimed in, "we ought to set up a protection spell and trigger it just before 0300."

"I think you two might be right about the timing, but I'd be terribly surprised if we aren't being monitored somehow. If they come and are prepared for the protection spell, it won't take them much effort to take it down. It's a lot of effort for not much of a reward," Harry responded.

"We don't need it to last long, Boss," Lisa stated, "just long enough for us to be all awake and ready when they breach it."

"She's right Harry," Neville agreed, "It's not like you'll be doing much else on night watch and like you said, if they come prepared for it, it's not going to last long no matter when we use it, so there is no reason not to use the materials up front to make sure we are prepared for anything that happens," Harry made to say something, but Neville pressed on, "If Payne doesn't come, we waste a few Knuts worth of material, so might as well set it up and use it."

"Alright," Harry said grouchily, he wasn't really annoyed with Neville. Learning to listen to and rely on others as they listened to and relied on him, while still being in the position to have to make the ultimate decisions was a harder lesson that he liked to admit to himself. Somewhere, it seemed, he began developing a superiority complex and he saw during his forced introspection, that it had negatively affected his judgment of the events leading to Sirius' death. It was a stark realization for Harry, but one he felt was necessary.

"Won't I be the envy of all the witches, Susan?" Lisa called quietly to the Susan, "Harry Potter is in my bed, in the middle of the night no less," she teased, changing the subject.

"It's scandalous," Susan bantered back, "Why, I fear for your virtue. Well…I fear for Harry's virtue anyhow," she finished with a smirk.

"Oi," Lisa protested, tossing a pillow at the other girl before turning to Harry, "you don't think I'd take advantage of you, do you Harry?" she said in an exaggerated throaty voice and batted her eyes at him.

Harry rolled his eyes, "Is it everything you dreamed it would be," Harry asked a while later.

"What?" Lisa asked surprised that he'd responded to her flirting.

"Having Harry Potter in your bed in the middle of the night, of course," Harry teased. In the short time they'd been in training together, Lisa had shown herself to be a big tease and an occasional flirt and it hadn't taken long for her to pick Harry as her favorite target. He had eventually decided, after much laughter at his expense, that teasing and flirting with her in return was the only real defense he had.

"Who said I ever dreamed of having you in my bed, boss?" she retorted.

"You did," Susan piped up, "just the other day you were talking all about the wicked things you'd do to him if you had him in your bed for just one night," she finished deadpan.

"I told you that in confidence, Sue," Lisa whined, smirking as Harry flushed slightly.

"So, what kind of 'fun' do you expect from Payne," Harry questioned, blatantly ignoring the direction of the previous thread of conversation and the slim, dark haired, fair skinned Ravenclaw who was pouting at his abrupt change of subject.

"I suppose he could release a horde of Cornish pixies on us," Susan giggled, but I somehow don't picture Payne hiding under a desk like Lockhart."

"Better that than a boggart," Lisa answered, "Professor Lupin almost had puppies when mine turned into a bloody Nundu!"

"It could be anything, I suppose," Harry replied, "He could unleash a mountain troll at us; I know how to fight them!"

"The rumors about your first year are true then?" Susan asked, "You, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger fought a mountain troll?"

"Not exactly," Harry hedged, "Hermione sort of trembled in a corner, while Ron and I threw rocks at it. We didn't really think it through though, and in the end I had shoved my wand up its nose and Ron levitated its club away from it then dropped it on its head."

"Interesting…" Lisa said, "But I'd rather face one of Hagrid's blast ended skrewts than a mountain troll!"

"As amusing as those are, I picture Payne's idea of fun as being a bit darker," Susan stated darkly. "I picture something more like a herd of Inferii or dementors or something."

Harry shivered, slightly. Despite being fully capable of fighting off a dementor, he didn't much like doing so and he liked the idea of being trapped in a room with a group of them even less.

Susan's musings served to silence any further banter and the trio settled in to quietly watch for trouble.

Time passed, as it was want to do, and much sooner than it seemed, Neville, Kevin and Tracey were awakened. As Harry drifted off to sleep, he overheard a bizarrely similar conversation to the one he, Lisa and Susan had had on what might be to come.

--

Captain Thomas Payne watched what he had come to think of as his runt team with a smirk. The officer, Potter, hadn't been far off his guess. Had they all just gone to sleep, he would have had started their test right then and they would have failed. His second in command was right about when the games would begin as well. Payne considered changing things around, but decided there weren't any great advantage to do so; besides, he admitted, if only to himself, that this test was hard enough without him cheating.

He was glad that the boy was becoming a decent officer; earning loyalty from all of his team members, listening to their suggestions and still maintaining a chain of command and making decisions. But it was time to see if he could lead them under more trying circumstances.

The magic Payne had placed on the room was subtle and hard to detect, but powerful. Though he didn't know it, the use of this type of magic was not entirely unfamiliar to the team. Waiting until just shy of an hour after the 1st watch bedded down, Payne activated his 'game' and sat back to watch how the runts reacted.

--

By 0255, the agreed upon time to cast, Lisa had long completed setting up the Wiccan protection spell. Captain Payne, however, had not, ultimately, resisted the urge to modify his timing given the first challenge.

Just before Lisa finished the ritual chant for the protection spell, two dozen Cornish Pixies zoomed into the barracks, trapping themselves within the protective barrier with the team. "What the bloody blue hell," Harry yelled, batting two of the irritating creatures away from his face. If his exclamation and the havoc caused by scourges of Lockhart didn't wake the rest of the team, the explosive sound of a troll club crushing against the protective spell did. Two further explosive swings later and the shield, which had not had time to properly form, collapsed.

Jumping into action Harry called out, "Explosion and destruction curses at the troll on my count; worry about the pixies after!" Giving pause for only a count of three, Harry cast one of the more powerful and devastating curse he knew "Destructo!"

The bright orange of his curse was joined by several streaks of red and yellow. Unfortunately, by design or pure luck, six pixies had decided to become martyrs and intercepted each of the six curses, coating the room and it's occupants in a light misting of bluish gore.

Not willing to consider the possibility that the sacrificial pixies were flukes, Harry bellowed "Tracey, Susan, Kevin, Lisa, start taking out the pixies. I don't care how, but make it fast. Neville, alternating explosion and impediment hexes with me."

Not waiting for anything as the troll had only paused for a moment in the face of the six diverted curses and was now nearly within striking distance, Harry and Neville began hurling red jets of flying death at the lumbering being. As Harry expected, nearly half of them were intercepted by pixies. Enough were impacting the troll though, that the sickening thud crunch of crushed flesh and bone was a near constant droning sound joining the wailing death cries of the quickly diminishing pixie population.

"Tracey, switch to Reductors at the troll, Neville, drop the impediment hexes!" Harry ordered before resuming his own barrage. Several seconds later, the pair's Reductors were joined by three others, having dispatched with the last of the pixies with extreme prejudice. The combined efforts of the six would be Mages not only overwhelmed the troll, but half collapsed one of the walls to the barracks.

"Whoops," Tracey uttered succinctly as they gazed at the destruction they had caused.

The initial adrenalin rush of the battle over, Harry quickly began to assess the situation. It seemed to him that there wasn't going to be a specific mission profile, they just had to wing it and survive the onslaught that he was certain was sure to come. Something struck him as odd about the makeup of the attack, but nothing he could put his finger on other than having faced off against both creatures in the past.

"Alright," he began, after drawing a deep breath, "I'm pretty sure we're not done for the night. Tracey, you and Lisa transfigure what you can into a real bunker or barrier for us. Everyone else, gather what you can that we can use. No telling how long until something else happens, so make it quick." 

While everyone else went about following their orders, Harry levitated several larger chunks of the destroyed wall to where the girls were transfiguring some protection. He levitated smaller chunks behind the barrier to be used as either projectiles or transfigured into needed tools. And finally, he vanished and transfigured as much of the remains of the troll as he could, having decided that there was no good reason to have to smell the rotting and fetid corpse all night long.

The flurry of activity of their various tasks completed, the sextet settled in their makeshift bunker within their half destroyed barrack and waited.

"It's not just a coincidence that we were talking about having to fight off pixies and trolls and then we had to fight them off!" Susan exclaimed.

"No, I don't think it was," Harry agreed, "but it doesn't really matter much right now."

"You all realize that those pixies had to have been magical constructs, right?" Lisa asked, "Real pixies cannot act in concert like those ones were. Their behavior was indicative of a sort of hive mind mentality. If we get attacked by any other swarm of creatures, I expect more of the same type of…what the hell is that?"

Startled by her sudden exclamation and looking around for whatever disturbance she was seeing, it took Harry a moment to register exactly what she was talking about; a distinct and unfortunately familiar concert of clicking sounds. "Acromantula," he growled, "I bloody hate acromantula," he said much louder. He turned to Lisa, "sounds like a lot of them. You think they'll behave like the pixies did?"

She mumbled something under her breath, before shaking her head and saying over the increasingly loud sounds of approaching spiders, "Yes, I think they might," she finally answered. If Harry noticed the slight tremble in her voice, he didn't say anything.

"So, just so you guys know, this is what being friends with me is like," Harry jested, trying to lighten the mood. He managed to draw a laugh from Neville, but no one else seemed to appreciate his humor. "Alright, I don't know the best way to fight these;" he stated, getting serious, "suggestions?"

"Fire," Kevin said grimly.

"I was thinking cutting curses," Tracey stated calmly.

"Anybody else?" Harry asked after a short moment of silence. Nobody said anything, "alright, Kevin, Susan, try fire. Lisa, Tracey, cutting curses. Nev, you and I need to keep them off everyone else, do what you need to do. If anyone knows how to transfigure a couple of stone golem giants to step on the spiders, now would be a great time to let me know," Harry finished.

The first of the nearly six foot tall spiders crawled through the giant hole in the wall near where the troll had fallen. Two columns of fire erupted from the makeshift bunker slamming into the giant 8 legged beast that had skittered into the barracks engulfing it in magical flames. The acromantula let out a hissing scream like steam from a teapot and despite being fully aflame charged at the source of the attack.

"Shit!" Kevin screamed, just as Harry's banisher threw the creature across the room into two others that had arrived behind the first, sending them all sprawling. The two who had been knocked down, quickly scrambled away from the flaming spider's diminishing attempts at regaining its feet.

"Kevin," Harry shouted, pausing to banish another across the room, "try something else! Susan, switch to cutting curses. Be accurate!"

Lisa and Tracey, despite their slow rate of attack, had already cut down a spider each. But there were now about a dozen 4 to 6 foot tall spiders in the room, and Harry and Neville were very hard pressed to keep them back as the spiders systematically tested their perimeter. Another went down as Tracey and Susan's curses connected with the same spider while Lisa's aim was off slightly, causing the now dead creature to lose a leg.

To his left, Harry heard Kevin running through some of the spell chains they had learned. He watched as explosion hexes, vanishing charms and stunners all bounced harmlessly off of the magically resistant exoskeletons.

Seeing the futility of his actions, the intense Slytherin hollered out a war cry. His wand whipping through the air, loosing an impediment jinx, jelly legs curse, leg locker curse, silver arrow curse, and silver splinter curse. It was an eclectic spell chain, but the impediment jinx seemed to work, slowing the large spiders giving the girls a better shot at them. While the jelly legs and leg locker curses just bounced off like the previous curses had, the silver arrow and silver splinter curses tore through one spider and wounded two others.

"Kevin; drop the jelly legs and leg lockers and repeat that spell chain, Susan, follow suit, create a crossfire. Lisa, Tracey, cover the edges, Neville drive the spiders into a bunch!" Harry ordered as he focused on banishing any spiders that approached the bunker into the kill zone. In short order the remaining spiders were quickly put down.

"Good job Kevin," Harry congratulated, turning to the tallest of the recruits, "and nice…" the rest of what he intended to say was cut off as a wounded but still very much alive acromantula suddenly bounded over the barrier, crushing him to the ground, it's pincers locking firmly around Harry's chest squeezing the breath out of him. Arms pinned to his sides by the pincers, he was unable to do anything but struggle for breathe and wince in pain as he heard something crack inside his body as his squad frantically worked to kill the beast and free him.

The sounds of the commotion faded away for Harry as a rushing sound overwhelmed everything else. The edges of his vision began to fade white and he was no longer able to focus on his surroundings. His struggles slowly became sluggish and labored despite his continued desperate fight to draw air into his lungs.

The next thing Harry knew, a voice called to him through the grayish haze, "Harry!" again it called, more insistently, "Harry!" As he slowly started to swim back into consciousness, he heard the same voice; Kevin's, "Bollocks! Reducto!"

The sounds of battle arose in his ears and an unknown roar filled the air. Sitting up and wincing in pain, Harry saw the glare of brightly colored spell fire lighting the barracks, slamming into an abomination of a lion's head mounted on an equine body with a giant, spiked reptilian tail. Sluggishly, his mind provided him the name of the creature, a chimera, and by the time he reached his feet, the adrenalin was once again surging through him. Taking careful aim, Harry poured all of his anger and pain into his spell, focusing it into a single beam of concentrated magic, the flame cutting curse bucked from his wand and slammed into the furry side of the distracted creature. A roar of agony filled the barracks, knocking the chimera off its feet.

His team capitalized and a non-stop blitz of spells poured onto the downed but powerful creature, its final death knell sounding after a second Harry powered flame cutter slammed into its unprotected belly.

The immediate threat dealt with, Harry took stock of the situation he found himself in. The bunker they had used as cover against the acromantula was destroyed, he was sure he at the least had a broken collar bone and maybe a cracked rib or two. Kevin was nursing a laceration on his wand arm and Susan was visibly limping. Harry was sure he could continue as he was as long as needed and knew the same was true of the others, but he didn't like that daylight was a long ways off, and half his team would be fighting with injuries. He cursed his lack of knowledge on medical magic.

"So, what'd I miss," he asked casually as if talking about missing a class or some rumor mongering in the great hall.

"Bastard," Tracey snarled, her tone somehow carrying annoyed affection.

Harry just smirked at the girl, "So, not much huh?"

"Well, after the acromantula kicked your arse, we had to deal with your snoring. When we saw you wake up, we let you help with the chimera," she shot back, "can't have you feeling useless now can we?"

Harry laughed, but grabbed at his midsection as he felt a sharp stab of pain run through him. "I don't suppose anybody knows how to fix broken ribs, do they?" He asked after regaining his breath.

"Take off your shirt," Lisa said with a sigh, causing Harry to pout and the others to snicker. "Hurry it up, we don't know when the next wave is coming!" she insisted.

Harry complied and Lisa wrapped his ribs, the best she could. He looked at his injured comrades and ordered, "You two better treat your injuries, Lisa; can you help Susan, wrap her leg."

While Lisa complied, Kevin switched his wand and cast "Episkey," on his arm and hissed as the wound closed up.

Harry looked around the half destroyed barracks and grimaced. Each of the 4 walls and the ceiling all had holes big enough for any number of creatures to enter, they had little in the way of cover as well. Without a goal aside from survival in mind, he made the decision to defend the barracks for as long as possible, because as bad as it was, it was still better than being out in the open; little cover was better than none.

Decision made, he acted, "We don't have much time I'm sure, so let's get to it. For better or worse, we're gonna defend this place. Lisa, you and Tracey are the best at transfiguration, start transfiguring…" he searched for a word, settling for, "bars or a portcullis or something for the holes in the walls, the more defensive the better, the stronger the better. Neville, you and Kevin start working on fixing that hole in the ceiling. I don't care how," he turned to the limping blond figure of Susan, "what offensive wards do you know?"

-------

Wards set, building repaired with barbed wire behind a heavy, spiked portcullis blocking each hole, door and window and the ceiling repaired with transfigured bits of ceiling and wall and judicious use of the Reparo charm and everything reinforced by whatever bits and bobs of magic anyone knew, the next hour was relatively peaceful, if you didn't count the horrible sounds the unseen enemy made as they breached the offensive wards.

The anticipation made for a tense atmosphere and soon the group had decided to play 'name that creature' by the sounds it made when breaching the wards. They identified, at the least, the sounds of blast ended skrewts, banshees, and what Harry swore sounded like Fluffy the hellhound. By the 45 minute mark they knew the wards were weakening.

Cold swept around the room, and the vague sense of helplessness and despair settled in just after the hour mark clearly announcing the arrival of dementors around the perimeter.

"The dementors are going to bring down the wards a lot faster than everything else that's out there," Tracey commented.

"Best get ready to fight," Harry answered grimly, "Don't hold anything back. I know it was my decision to defend the fort, so to speak, but if we get a chance to cut and run, we should take it." He had no sooner finished speaking when he felt the wards crumble and fall.

There was silence for a moment, the screams of the creatures trying to penetrate the wards quiet now.

**THUD! **

The walls shook as they were assaulted from all sides.

Harry looked around at his comrades, they were all ready, and tensely waiting for the onslaught they all knew was coming. "This is not an epic battle, we are about to fight," He said above the din, "no history books will record what happens here. We are not fighting for some higher calling or lofty goal. But we are fighting for something," He grinned savagely, "we're fighting for pride, we're fighting for honor, we're fighting to show them we deserve to be called Mages and they WILL respect us!"

There was no verbal response to Harry's speech, but each wizard and witch straightened their backs just a little bit, stood a little prouder and glared a little more fiercely.

**THUD!**

The walls shook again, though this time; they did not inspire fear or anxiety, only anticipation. Susan smirked, "Harry, they're knocking, why don't we open the door," she said. Having the team's attention, she explained her plan.

**THUD!**

Once more the walls shook, and a crack appeared in one of the transfigured Portcullis', it was exactly what they were waiting for. As one, the six-some turned to this wall and a glare of red light washed over the room from the six explosion hexes cast simultaneously. A heartbeat of perfect silence before the cracked wall was blown apart, shards of the now destroyed barrier, propelled by the explosion tore into the massed hoards, and as the dust cleared, the team was surprised to see Inferii in various states of disrepair climbing over the corpse of a nundu with a large support beam sticking from its neck.

There was a momentary lull in spell-fire as the team began selecting targets and spells. "Keep the Inferii outside!" Harry shouted, "Neville..." he trailed off as a wall of fire erupted from his fellow Gryffindor's wand, spreading across the giant hole in the wall. "When he gets tired, you take over," Harry ordered Kevin, "The rest of you, cutting curses, decapitate them!"

As with all battle plans, Harry's plan to deal with the Inferii did not survive long after engaging the undead warriors. Two giant blast ended skrewts exploded into the room, one of them distracting Neville enough by jamming it's stinger into his abdomen for his elemental fire to fail. The air was filled with the collapsing boy's anguished cries, even as magic rolled off of him in waves of fury.

His friend and teammate down, Harry felt the familiar sense of rage settle over him, "Laniatus!" he screamed, pushing all of his magic into the curse. The skrewt, which had been poised for a second strike against the downed teen, had no time to react; the dim grey glow of the mutilation curse slammed into it.

For a split second Harry stood still, not knowing if the spell, the darkest spell he'd ever successfully cast would have any effect. When it struck, the horrible sound of flesh being grinded into wet pulp joined the agonized screams of the creature and the moans of pain of its intended victim in a cacophony of anguish and destruction.

Suddenly this battle wasn't some exercise to gain respect, some test with limited consequences. Pain and injury was no stranger to this group, but when Neville went down, screaming, run through by a potentially poisoned barb it hit them that this wasn't some test, it was the real thing; and the difference was vast. Even Harry, who had stared death in the face several times, had not realized the severity of the situation.

They all rallied around Neville even as the second and a third blast ended skrewt flitted around them, looking for an opening to attack and the Inferii mindlessly charged at them. Precision cutting curses and elemental fire gave way to explosion and mutilation curses, and Fiendfyre; the spells becoming progressively darker and more powerful.

Harry stopped for a moment, even as the four remaining able body mages struggled to hold back the press of their enemies. Looking over the death and destruction he came to one undeniable conclusion; his decision to stay and defend the barracks was rushed and ill conceived. It was now clear that retreat was the only option that would allow any of them to escape without grievous harm. Harry thanked every deity and power he could think of in that moment of despair that Voldemort either could not or did not attack with these number of forces or he would have long ago perished, and the magical world with him.

Decision made, Harry couldn't spare a moment to even feel bad that he wished it had been anyone else of his teammates to be injured as Neville was the most powerful of them. "Okay guys, we're leaving…now," Harry shouted, "Neville, Susan is going to levitate you; any help in clearing a path for us to get out of here…" he trailed off looking into the anguished but determined eyes of his friend. "Lisa, Kevin, cover our arse! Tracey, let's clear the bloody road!!!"

Orders given, Harry pushed out with every bit of magic he could manage and cast a spell chain of several explosion curses followed by a banishing curse. A twelve foot long pathway of blood appeared among the hoard. Without hesitation, Tracey leapt out front of the group, casting a similar spell chain to Harry's, clearing another four feet towards the door. Harry jumped into the lead, cursing how noticeably drained Tracey was after rapidly casting so many powerful spells. He was only halfway through his second explosion curse, when the realization set in that they wouldn't even come close to making it. This moment of clarity came with the arrival of yet more enemies; what looked to be another mage team, dressed all in black, attempting to curse him.

Turning to his team to give further orders, his heart fell at what he saw. Susan had gone down, whether her leg had given out on her or she had been attacked, he didn't know. Several Inferii beat and tore at her, dragging her away from the others. Neville was nowhere to be seen; Kevin and Lisa were standing back to back, lashing out at anything that approached them, but both obviously injured and exhausted. Tracey still stood with him, still obviously recovering from the magical output of the major spell chaining and all of the transfiguration Harry had ordered her to do.

"What do we do," she asked, barely able to deflect what looked to be a cutting curse.

For only the second time in his life, Harry felt the coiled, boiling rage he once attributed to Voldemort build up within him. This time, though, there was no Portkey to whisk him away, no friends to calm him, no godfather to ground him, and no Voldemort to blame; there was only Harry, and any desire to hold back, to use cool logic, or play by the rules was long-lost. 

"No more!" Harry whispered, ignoring his teammate, "No more!" he repeated more loudly, "Finite Incantatem!" he shouted sweeping his wand across the room, a maniacal grin lighting his face. With an odd pop, the Inferii, skrewts and remains of the various other creatures that had laid siege to the barracks vanished.

Sparing no thought for Tracey's questioning look or the battered and unconscious form of Susan lying in his path; he marched towards the only foes that did not disappear, the other Mage's. Ignoring the heavily bloody duo of Kevin and Lisa, who were checking on the fallen blond; he drew nearer his enemies, his entire focus on the five Mages who had been taunting his team, casually cursing them from afar as if it was a part of a game.

"NO MORE," Harry thundered, squaring his shoulders and facing down the five mages. No longer were they grinning and laughing and casually twirling their wands. They stood, shoulder to shoulder, wands clenched.

"Potter," Payne's voice broke through the tense silence, as the man himself stepped into the room, looking around in distaste as if doing an inspection, "Just what do you think you're doing?"

Harry's gaze flickered to the captain for a moment, before returning to the five Mages before him.

"Potter," Payne shouted, approaching Harry, "You will answer your superior officer when he addresses you."

Harry's slowly turned his head to regard his trainer and commanding officer, dimly taking notice that with his attention shifted away from them, the five man team dropped into fighting stances and began to spread out.

"I am talking to you Potter," Payne pressed, his wand suddenly in hand.

The movement was enough to spur Harry into action; quickly bringing turning his wand on the instructor. Surprisingly, he found himself immediately on the defensive with a tightly packed group of spells screaming across the expanse him and his opponent. Almost negligently, Harry batted the magic away in an irritated swipe of his wand, and then spun around, dodging the next onslaught heading his way.

Dodging out of the way, Harry's wand erupted with his own flurry. Immediately reading Payne's body language as defensive, Harry charged towards him, his wand flashing madly. The Captain's shield collapsed under the barrage, and with a muffled exclamation, the man disappeared with a pop. Instinctively, Harry dove away from where he'd been, rolling to his feet facing towards the center of the room, even as he scanned the room for his opponent.

The cerulean glare of the bone crushing spell gave away the other man's concealed position, but forced Harry to again dive out of the way. Back and forth the two Mages went, their wands constant blurs of motion and light, neither able to gain an upper hand despite their opposite's best efforts.

Still running on pure emotion, Harry was becoming increasingly frustrated with his inability to put Payne down. He had taken to trying to banish the Captain's spells directly back at him between his own salvos of ill intentioned sorcery.

Each man countered the other, stepping out of the way, shielding, reflecting, even conjuring, transfiguring or summoning physical barriers to protect themselves from the others attacks. It was this last strategy that finally allowed Harry an upper hand.

Again Harry had loosed a powerful series curses, and continued trying to close the gap between the Mage Instructor and himself. He was intent on overwhelming the other through sheer power and bloody mindedness. When Payne summoned a chunk of a nearby collapsed wall to block the bombardment, Harry cast another half dozen spells, leading with a vanishing and banishing charms. If one didn't take care of the man's protection, the other would; giving Harry time to capitalize.

The vanishing spell did nothing to the large chunk of wall; however the sudden jarring propulsion of the same distracted Payne enough for a single blow to land, the impact threw Payne to the ground, his once shield landing on his lower body, pinning a leg. Harry grinned maniacally as he finally took the man down.

"Imperio," Payne shouted from his fallen position. Harry was too close to dodge and knew no shield would block the curse, but he was unmindful, knowing he was fully capable of throwing it off with ease even when cast by the most powerful of wizards.

Hubris, it seemed, was a trait that Harry unfortunately found he suffered from. As the curse struck him and the familiar feeling of bliss swept through him, he prepared his mind to throw it off. So focused was he on this that he never noticed the bright orange streak of the bone-crusher curse before it slammed into his chest. Harry was mercifully stunned only a moment later.

------

Harry came back to consciousness with a sharp jolt and he immediately recognized the effects of the 'enervate' spell. He was glad to notice that when he sat up and instinctively reached for his glasses and wand, he found them. Beyond even that bit of luck, the considerable injuries he distinctly remembered receiving seemed to have mostly been healed, leaving him feeling only slightly achy and weak.

"On your feet Potter," Payne ordered in a calm voice, and Harry quickly jumped to his feet. Once he had assumed the correct stance and posture, the Captain questioned, "Your report cadet?"

Recognizing the post battle routine that he had come to know as well as the lack of hostility or anger from the Mage Instructor, Harry spoke, "Sir, the cadets set an overnight watch in preparation for whatever test the Instructor set for us sir…" he continued, describing the fight from his perspective in as much detail as he was able, just as he knew his fellow recruits had or would.

When he had finished, Payne asked, "Do you think you passed the test, cadet?"

Harry was slow to answer as he considered his reply. He finally settled for saying, "I believe that passing, in this case, is subjective, sir. I believe that victory over all enemies in this test was not possible and so the purpose of the test was defeat."

"Good Potter, good," Payne said through a slight smile, "there is much to be learned in defeat. But you did not quite capture the full scope of what the test is. While it's true that there can be no victory, the manner of defeat was as much the purpose as the defeat itself. You needed to see that no matter how good you and your team are and no matter how well you work together, you are and never will be unbeatable."

"Yes sir," Harry said, attempting to keep the resentment of the test from his voice.

"You don't approve," Payne stated mildly.

"It's not that sir," Harry responded, "my approval has nothing to do with it sir. I can see the necessity of it even if I don't fully understand it; but I don't have to like it."

"True Potter, you don't have to like it, but you'd better be able to learn from it," Payne's normally strict voice held a note of command in it. "Now," he stated, "the first thing I notice is that while your command instincts are good and your men respect you and follow you, you are trying to micromanage your team. Give them a task and let them do it. After specialized training this will not be as much of an issue, but you need to trust them to do their jobs."

"Yes sir," Harry stated, cursing himself again as he realized he had again fallen victim to what he perceived as a superiority complex.

"You should have learned from this ordeal, that when you have no reason or purpose to fight you should avoid doing so," Payne continued, "you should have learned to not let yourself get distracted by emotion or injury and to keep your head at all times. Had you done so, after you countered the magic animating the constructs, you could have retreated with your team."

"Yes sir," Harry again agreed.

"You should have learned that no matter how impressive of a foe you are, and how innocuous or ill thought out an opponents attack seems, to never dismiss it and to never underestimate an opponent." Payne stared hard at Harry, "even magically exhausted, you nearly had me bested. Even mentally projecting your every move, you still nearly defeated me. The only reason you did not become the first team to ever attain victory in that test was because you were not thinking; only reacting. Your specialized training will include advanced Occlumency and Legilimency training; you will learn how to use your emotions to fuel your magic without losing control and how to read your opponents moves before they make them. When you can do that, with two years with Captain Flitwick you could very possibly be the best pure duelist in the country, bar none."

"There are other things you and your team may come to understand as you reflect on that defeat. Don't dwell on it, learn from it and get better."

"Yes sir," Harry stated firmly, chuffed that he and his team had done well in an impossible situation. "How is my team, sir?"

"Everyone is recovering nicely Potter," Payne replied, "This weekend's leave has been cancelled for recovery. By Monday, you will be ready for more."

Payne's idea of recovery, it turned out, was very nice. He had given the reunited group a Portkey, saying only that the location was outside of England and one of the perks of being a Mage. When they arrived at their destination, they found themselves in a private Romanesque bath house. A brief threat from Tracey that there would be no Roman orgy, despite their location, and the group disrobed and eased into the soothing, and obviously magically enhanced recuperative baths.

Over two days, the group explored around the bathhouse, attached bungalow and the deserted beach it sat on. Their recent injuries, however, prevented them from venturing much beyond the waters edge. This, in concert with a suspected compulsion charm on the bath led to them spending the majority of their weekend lounging in the healing waters in little to no clothing.

It was both the best and most frustrating experience of Harry's life. He'd never seen a woman in any sort of undress before coming to training. During training, sharing a barracks, bathroom and shower with the girls, he had caught glimpses of skin and knickers, but was honestly often too tired to pay more than cursory attention. That weekend though proved to him that he was decidedly heterosexual, and that his female teammates were all very well put together.

The end of the long weekend came far too soon for Harry's liking.

-----

Upon his return to Mage training, Harry found himself working one on one with Commander Bacon. Ever the professorial type, Bacon had Harry sit in a classroom, while he perched on his desk and lectured.

"Harry," Bacon began, "You have heard many people tell you that you are a powerful wizard; you have performed feats of magic that are beyond what most full grown wizards and witches and even many fully trained Mages are capable of. Do you believe this?"

"I've come to, sir." Harry answered honestly. Ever since his conversation with Commodore Bligh, he had accepted that he was not normal or average and he had found that just that simple acceptance had a supreme impact on his abilities.

"Good," the man replied, "now, we've got two weeks to teach you years worth of material. It's not going to be easy, but I expect you to keep up and learn everything I have to teach you."

"Yes sir," Harry replied immediately.

"Magic, Harry, is fluid and ever changing. There are no real limits to what it can do and there are no concrete rules it must follow. If you can accept that as the truth, that the theory is meaningless and only power and willpower truly control magic, then everything else I have to teach you will just be a bonus."

"I don't understand sir," Harry responded, "magical theory is meaningless?"

"Yes, Harry, for a wizard of your caliber, it is," Bacon amended. "The theory has its place, its reason and its uses. It brings order to the mass of chaos that magic truly is, making it accessible, for lack of a better word, to the masses. But magic is an art, not a science. Nearly anyone with the right tools can follow instructions and copy a master's work; but a true artist, Harry, can create a masterpiece."

"Are you saying that I can create magic, sir?" Harry questioned in wonder.

"I'm saying that the restrictions of magical theory hold you back," the Commander answered, "I'm saying that if you can let go of those theories and just perform the magic that in time, you may be able to bend magic to your will. Be aware Harry, that it will likely be years or even decades before you reach such a point. Until such a time, however, your abilities will only be hindered by your willpower and strength."

Without waiting for Harry to acknowledge or respond to that pronouncement, Commander Francis Bacon began his first lecture on the art of warding.

For the next two weeks Harry progressed more quickly than he believed, learning warding, curse breaking, advanced transfiguration, animation, conjuration, Occlumency, and Legilimency along with numerous charms for surveillance, privacy concealment and tracking.

**Thank you to the people who helped me with this story either directly or indirectly. Thank you to everyone on the FFA forums.**

**Thanks to VoodooLady, VoodooMom and Meg for beta reading this.**

**I will be responding to comments and questions directly on the forums at **


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JKR, she keeps him locked in a cupboard and feeds him through a cat flap.**

_**CHAPTER 2**_

September 1st found Harry arriving at Platform 9 ¾ far earlier than what he was used to. His team had opted to arrive at slightly different intervals to avoid arousing too much suspicion. There would be enough of that going around with the Boy Who Lived all of the sudden spending time with 2 Slytherins a Hufflepuff and a Ravenclaw; particularly from his friends.

Not seeing anyone on the platform that he wanted to talk with, Harry grabbed his trunk, easily lifted it, and climbed aboard the Hogwarts Express in search of Neville who had preceded him in arriving. His search was brought to an abrupt halt by a large bellied, bald man with a silver walrus mustache blocking the corridor.

"Oh, I'm sorry young man," began the bald man, when he stopped suddenly, "Harry Potter!" he exclaimed in surprise. "It's a pleasure to meet you, my name is Horace Slughorn, new and returning potions professor. Your mother was one of my favorite students. Prodigy in potions, that one," he finished fondly.

"Oh, thank you sir," Harry replied, unsure of anything further to say, though relieved that the man had seemed normal and genial, after initially recognizing him.

"I'll be holding a luncheon later during our journey Mr. Potter; Harry, I'd be delighted if you joined us," Slughorn pressed.

"I'll consider it," Harry replied evasively, unsure about joining the unknown man, "Is this your compartment then sir?"

"Yes, lad, it is," the elder man said, "I do apologize again about blocking your way, I was just seeing to the accommodations." The man turned and with few deft flicks of his wand he completed what he had apparently been in the middle of when Harry came along, his compartment had expanded significantly, a table and several chairs with accompanying place settings sprang into existence. It was impressive magic; showing both a mastery of the subject and not a little bit of power behind it.

"I'd best get going sir," Harry said, indicating his trunk with an exaggerated struggle, "this is getting somewhat heavy."

"Of course, of course, Harry," Slughorn said, stepping into the enlarged cabin, "I shall send someone to find you when my luncheon begins."

"Until then, sir," Harry replied with a nod and continued down the corridor, wondering at how easily Slughorn had turned his maybe into acceptance without it seeming like an order. He shrugged, the school year was long and there would be plenty of time to figure the man out.

Harry quickly found the compartment Neville had claimed and settled in, greeting his friend and teammate amiably.

"Did you hear any news about what happened this summer," Harry asked. News of the outside had been notoriously lacking, owing to the idea of keeping them focused on what they were learning.

"Not a lot," Neville replied, "mostly what I've heard about is what seems like random acts of violence against Muggles. Nobody has said anything about any wizards or witches being attacked. There's a lot of talk about the dementors going missing though. People are just waiting for them to start attacking the countryside."

Harry just smirked at his fellow Gryffindor, "one thing we actually don't have to worry about," he replied.

"Don't have to worry about what?" Hermione asked, as she dragged her trunk and Crookshanks carrier into the compartment.

"O.W.L.s," Neville lied easily.

"But N.E.W.T. preparation starts this year, and they are supposed to be so much more difficult than the O.W.L.s," Hermione protested, "I'm sure that we will have loads of work to do this year."

"I'm sure you're right, Hermione," Harry answered rolling to his feet and helping the girl with her trunk.

When he had settled it on the rack next to his own, he turned and found himself ensconced in a tight hug. "It's good to see you too, Hermione," Harry replied, as he gave her a gentle squeeze in return.

"Where were you this summer? What were you doing? Why didn't you write? Why didn't you let…" she trailed off glancing at Neville, "our friends know where you were?"

"Hermione," Harry interrupted, "I did an internship at the Department of Mysteries. It came about rather suddenly, though notification of my internship was left at the Dursley's for anyone who bothered to look for it. As to why I didn't contact anyone after that, well, I never really thought of trying, to be honest. Neville?"

"I thought of contacting my Gran," the elder boy replied, "but never actually got around to it. We should ask the others, though."

"Wait! You were there too Neville?" At the boy's nod, she continued, "others?"

"Lisa Turpin, Kevin Urquhart, Tracey Davis and Susan Bones," Harry answered. Hermione made no move to continue her questioning, so Harry decided to do some of his own. "We were kind of isolated from information over the summer, has _anything_ happened?"

"Well, the dementors went missing from Azkaban," Hermione stated, "but they haven't been used in any attacks yet. The Daily Prophet said that Emmeline Vance was killed by Death Eaters and that one of the Bones residences had been ransacked, luckily, nobody was there at the time. Minister Scrimgeour seems…"

"Minister Scrimgeour?" Harry interrupted.

"Oh, you really didn't have any news then," Hermione replied surprised, "Fudge was ousted at the beginning of the summer. Rufus Scrimgeour, formerly the head Auror was elected as the new minister."

"Oh," Harry answered intelligently.

"Anyway, Minister Scrimgeour has been rounding up suspected dark sympathizers and throwing them in Azkaban without trial or questioning!" Hermione exclaimed. "He even had Stan Shunpike from the Night Bus arrested."

"Are you sure he's not questioning them and that Stan wasn't passing information?" Harry asked calmly.

"Well, that's the way the Mr. Weasley made it sound, and he heard it right from Dumbledore," Hermione answered, "and Stan couldn't be a dark sympathizer!"

"Neither could Ludo Bagman," Harry countered, "but he _was_ passing on information, even if he didn't know he was. Stan is in a position where he knows an awful lot about the comings and goings of a lot of wizards and witches. Can you say for certain that he didn't tell somebody where a particular person was dropped off for a bag full of galleons?"

Hermione frowned, obviously upset at Harry's argument but responded, "No, but that doesn't mean he did it, either."

"No, it doesn't," Harry agreed.

"Amusing as this depressing conversation is," Neville piped up, "how about a game of chess, Harry?" Harry shook his head, "Hermione?" she too, declined, but they let the topic drop.

"So, how did you do on your O.W.L.s Hermione?" Neville pressed the topic change.

Fifteen minutes later, when Ron arrived, Hermione was still going on about her scores and things she could have and should have done differently.

"Bloody hell," Ron stated immediately, "which one of you got her on about this again!"

Hermione huffed in annoyance, "Hello to you too Ron!"

Ron's ears turned slightly red and he dropped his head slightly, "Sorry, Hermione," he said sheepishly and then turned his attention to the male occupants of the compartment. "Hey Neville; Harry, where the bloody hell were you all summer?"

"My summer was fine, Ron thanks for asking. And how was yours," Neville replied sarcastically causing Harry to laugh.

The stunned silence from Ron and Hermione that followed his statement was a testament to just how often Neville was pushed off to the side and ignored. Harry was proud of his friend and teammate. Ron and Hermione were the first, but would not be the last to be surprised by the confident and powerful Neville Longbottom.

"Sorry Neville," Ron answered after an uncomfortable moment, "my summer was dead boring. All we did was to help mum and Fleur get things ready for my oldest brother Bill's wedding."

"I'm sorry I missed that," Harry interjected sarcastically, "though it would have been nice to see Fleur again."

"Yeah," Ron said dreamily, "that part wasn't so bad." Harry and Neville laughed, and Hermione scowled.

After calming down a bit from laughing at Ron's discomfiture, Harry answered the redheads initial question, "Neville and I spent the summer interning for the Department of Mysteries Ron."

"Oh," Ron responded, "what was that like?"

"I can't really talk about it mate," Harry answered, which was true. Before leaving training Commodore Bligh had taken the group and put them under a secrecy spell; a druidic geas. They could not willingly or unwillingly divulge any information about the Mages, their trainers, where they were and a long list of other details. The information was protected by magic; unfortunately this meant that they were unable to talk about specific things that happened in training, even amongst themselves.

"Come on, Harry," Hermione pressed, "You can tell us about anything."

"No, Hermione," Harry replied sternly, "I _can't_ tell you. I am incapable of doing so."

"Neville?" Hermione asked for clarification.

"_Can't _say anything about it Hermione," Neville answered.

"But how is that possible? I've never read about anything that prevents someone from voluntarily sharing information," the female, 6th year Gryffindor prefect argued.

"Can't talk about that either," Neville explained, he opened his mouth as to continue, paused, then abruptly closed it.

Harry struggled a bit, unable to add anything to the conversation because of the geas, before settling for saying nothing.

"What can you tell me about it," she asked in frustration.

Harry and Neville looked at each other, perplexed, trying to come up with something to say. "It's not considered magic by much of the magical world." Harry elucidated.

"At least in Europe," Neville added.

Seeing the gleam in Hermione's eyes, Harry felt he needed to say something more. "Even if you figure out what magic we're under, Hermione, we're under it willingly. You won't be able to break it and I, for one, don't want you to try." Neville settled for nodding in agreement.

"But…" Hermione trailed off, seeing that both Harry and Neville were very serious. She would research it without them then, she decided, saying "fine."

Ron and Hermione left for their prefect meeting and duties a while later, leaving Harry and Neville playing a game of Exploding Snap, as they had quickly become unwilling to participate in any conversation regarding their summer.

"It's harder than I thought it would be," Harry said quietly.

"I know," Neville agreed, "I didn't realize before how separate it'd make us, even from our friends. I mean, I knew it would be different…" he sighed, "just not like this."

"It's probably harder for Susan and Lisa," Harry remarked, "at least we were friends before all of this, and so were Kevin and Tracey. Those two are going to be separated from all of their friends."

"They'll just have to lean on us," Neville replied, "I certainly wouldn't mind if Susan leaned on me," he continued with a smirk, "she's a bit of alright, if you catch my meaning." Harry laughed and the lingering tension from Ron and Hermione's questioning lifted.

-----

About two hours into the journey and several games of exploding snap, a small Ravenclaw poked her head into Harry and Neville's compartment.

"Excuse me," she said politely, "but Professor Slughorn has requested the presence of Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom in his compartment for a small luncheon and has asked me to retrieve you."

"Right, forgot about that. I ran into him on the way to the compartment," Harry explained, then looked at the girl who stood waiting at the door, "you can go now."

She looked like she was going to protest, before huffing in a way that very much resembled Hermione, and walking away.

When she had gone, Harry turned back to Neville, "he's got talent and power besides, expanded his compartment at least three fold and conjured a full table including place settings without any visible effort and he apparently taught potions at Hogwarts to my parents."

"I've heard of him," Neville nodded, "from what I've heard, he's a bit like Lockhart, but less obvious about it. I would guess he's mostly harmless, he just wants to be associated with talented or influential people."

Harry groaned at the thought, but remembered that the man hadn't seemed that bad upon meeting him, "Well, best not keep the Professor waiting." That said the pair of Gryffindor Mages made their way to the first meeting of this incarnation of Slughorn's Slug Club.

----

Harry and Neville entered the enlarged compartment to find Slughorn sitting at the head of a table that sat ten. They grabbed chairs on either side of Susan Bones, who was already there and looking rather bored. Others in attendance were Blaise Zabini, a tall, dark skinned Slytherin, Ginny Weasley, Hermione, and half a dozen witches and wizards Harry vaguely recognized but couldn't name.

As the Professor made introductions, pointing out various accomplished family members or personal accomplishments of the introduced, it became apparent that he had chosen those who were to attend by their potential societal influence. Instead of ingratiating himself to them, however, Slughorn seemed focused on everyone getting to know each other.

Harry filed that bit of information away, sat back and let the Professor led conversation flow around him, participating when it was called for, but otherwise trying to avoid being drawn into the boring conversation.

That was not to be, however, as Professor Slughorn put Harry, Susan and Neville on the spot, "so, you three haven't said much about your summer vacations. Tell us, what did you get up to?"

Annoyed glances from both of his teammates announced clearly that Harry would be the one to answer. With a slight smile, he replied, "The three of us interned in the Department of Mysteries this summer. It was rather mysterious, if I do say so myself."

Though Hermione scowled at him yet again, Slughorn took his explanation at face value and deftly changed the subject, "Yes, mysterious indeed," he agreed, "now I hear you ran a defense club last year; I know I've heard quite a few of your classmates talking about it. Do you intend to do so again this year?"

"I'm not certain, Professor," Harry replied, "I haven't considered it fully. I suppose it will depend partly on this years Defense teacher and partly on if I believe I have something of value to teach."

"Indeed commendable, Harry," Slughorn answered, "Professor Snape is very able in the area of defense, I can assure you. But you will have to make up your own mind as to if it would be beneficial to all involved to continue your group."

Eventually, the luncheon broke up, and the Slug Club was allowed to return to their compartments for the rest of their journey. Susan joined Harry and Neville in their compartment for a while, joking and playing games. Though she didn't say anything, Harry felt that she, too, had had problems with reconnecting with her friends.

-----

The Hogwarts Express finally pulled into the Hogsmeade station and Harry, Neville and Susan stood together with Ron and Hermione in the crowd of students lined up for a Thestral pulled carriage.

As they slowly meandered to the front of the line, Hermione suddenly spoke up, "I just remembered I need to talk to," she paused for a noticeable moment, "Ginny about…something. Come on Ron." She grabbed the bewildered redheads hand and dragged him away through the crowd.

Harry knew that connecting with his friends after missing them all summer and not being able to talk about where he was and what he was doing might put a strain on their friendship, but Hermione's actions and attitude seemed completely out of proportion for whatever transgression Harry could fathom her holding against him. He decided that it must be an emotional girl thing and that she'd get over it, he hoped.

After Ron and Hermione had gone wherever they had, Susan decided that they'd waited long enough and pushed her way through the others who were waiting to join Lisa, Tracey and Kevin in the carriage they had just boarded, she turned and looked at Harry and Neville, "you guys coming or what?"

With identical shrugs, Harry and Neville followed the Hufflepuff girl's example, pushed through the milling crowd and jumped aboard.

"So much for Gryffindor's leading the way," Kevin laughed when they were all seated.

"Yeah, yeah," Harry grumbled, before turning the conversation semi-serious, "anybody else have problems with their friends?" He asked, clarifying, "I mean, they act like you did something wrong or are acting weird around you or you field weird about being around them now?"

"I did," Susan offered, "Hannah just acted distant; you know, didn't really want to talk to me and kept shooting me strange looks over her book."

"Padma didn't say anything to me," Lisa volunteered, "but that's not necessarily abnormal, but she didn't even talk about her O.W.L.s."

"We're already outcasts in Slytherin," Tracey explained, "I'm a half-blood, which Snape made sure everyone knew in my first year, so they automatically look down on me."

"I'm a half-blood as well, though they don't know that," Kevin responded, "but since my first year at Hogwarts was last year for my O.W.L.s as I'd done an apprenticeship before that, they assume I'm poor and look down on me."

"And Slytherins don't have friends anyhow," Tracey continued, "They have contacts, acquaintances and people they can blame."

"Thank Merlin I talked the hat out of sorting me into Slytherin," Harry muttered. "If Snape at least passively supports the blood bias against some random first year, imagine what he'd have done to me; the half-blooded son of a man who he loathed."

"You'd have been potions ingredients mate," Neville added with false good cheer.

"Yeah, but not this year," Harry grumbled, "No, this year the greasy bastard had to take over my favorite subject."

"You mean Snape's…" Lisa began.

"The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," Harry finished for her. "Slughorn is the new potions teacher. He doesn't seem too bad."

"A bit like Lockhart, that one," Neville added, "likes to hear himself talk."

"Still better than Snape," Harry reminded him. On that point, there could be no disagreement.

"So, what classes are you going to take?" Lisa asked into the ensuing silence.

The rest of the short ride to the castle was spent speculating on what classes they would each take and on what their O.W.L. scores had been.

Kevin, Tracey and Lisa peeled off from the group as they entered the great hall and headed for their tables while the others continued to their own. As they neared where the Gryffindor's sat, Harry saw that Hermione had positioned herself at the end of the table with Ron next to her, Ginny and Dean across from her and the other fifth, sixth and seventh years filling in the seats halfway down the table.

"Subtle," Neville commented with scorn in his voice.

"Well, she is the brightest witch of her age," Harry replied sarcastically, causing Neville to laugh and Susan to giggle merrily.

"See you guys," Susan said happily as she made her way down the isle between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables.

"So, I've never understood that statement," Neville stated, "does it mean she's the smartest witch her age, like 15 or 16 year old witch, or the smartest witch of our generation, or like the smartest witch out of any that lived in the 20th century?"

"I don't know Nev, I never really thought about it," Harry answered, "but I can tell you that if you had asked me that question 6 months ago, I'd have answered differently than now."

"I know what you mean," Neville replied, "I hope they get to the feast soon, I'm starving."

The sorting and the feast went as they always did. The first years either asking questions or staring around in wonderment and awe while upper years resisted the urge, mostly, to torment them and filled up on the abundance of food provided by the house elves. When everyone had finished and the meal vanished, Dumbledore stood to make the start of term announcements.

"Welcome, welcome to another year at Hogwarts," the headmaster greeted with a smile and his trademark twinkling blue eyes. "It is important, in these difficult times in our society, that we come together, learn together and live together in peace and friendship, and I am happy to say that with all of the happy and content faces I see, that is what I expect from each of you. Hogwarts has two staffing changes to announce this year; returning from retirement to teach potions once again, Professor Horace Slughorn." The hall filled with polite applause as the man smiled and gave a little wave.

Dumbledore continued, "This years Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, former Potions professor and current head of Slytherin house, is Professor Severus Snape." Snape, for his part, glared at the students at the three house tables that did not clap at the announcement. "New students and old, please be aware that the Forbidden Forrest is out of bounds, in other words, forbidden, as its name suggests. Mr. Filch has asked me to announce, once again, that magic is forbidden in the corridors and a list of forbidden items can be found on his office door. Good night."

----

Harry claimed his normal chair near the fire when he reached the common room, and Neville sat across from him, in the squashy chair usually reserved for Hermione. Having the advantages of having sneaked around the castle a lot and not having to lead a bunch of first years up seven floors, he and Neville had been among the first to arrive.

"So, what do you think," Neville asked, basking in the warmth the fire put off. True, it was still technically summer, but they were in a drafty castle in northern Scotland, so chilly was a way of life.

"I think it's going to be a long and interesting year Neville," Harry answered, "and that's saying something considering what the past five years were like."

Neville nodded in agreement, then spoke, "I agree, it's going to be interesting. To start with, we haven't had a Malfoy insult flung at us yet."

"I have something that will help on that front," Harry stated, thinking about how to use the Marauders Map for surveillance on the Malfoy heir, or anyone else. "And we need to figure out where and when to start and set up a schedule."

Neville nodded seriously, but any reply was cut off as the first years poured into the room, herded effectively by Hermione, while Ron lagged behind them. The formerly clumsy Gryffindor smirked as he saw the 6th year girls' prefect scowl briefly when she spotted where he was seated in the middle of her orientation speech.

When she finished her speech, she shot another look over at Harry and Neville sitting in the trio's preferred seats, sniffed and offered to help the first year girls get settled. Without another look, she led the way up the stairs to the girl's dorms.

Ron looked dumbfounded at her behavior before falling into his own seat, "She's in a right state, Harry," the redhead said, "barmy, I'm telling you."

Harry laughed in good humor. Apparently whatever was bothering Hermione didn't bother Ron, at least not for long anyway, for which he was grateful. The male trio laughed and talked for a little while until Ron decided he wanted to beat somebody at chess before he went to bed, Harry begged off, but Neville decided to play him.

As he lie awake in his four post bed, waiting for sleep to come, Harry couldn't help but feel his earlier words were almost prophetic; it was going to be a long and interesting year.

------

The next morning at breakfast, Harry again found the table set up to keep him separate from Hermione and Ron. After the previous night, he knew Ron wasn't the driving force behind avoiding him, so it had to be Hermione. It all seemed rather childish to Harry; being angry and avoiding him without him knowing why. Of course, he mused, Hermione would expect him to figure it out and apologize, there was certainly no way she was wrong, in her mind.

Sighing and putting the hurt of the situation out of his mind, he turned his attention to his head of house, who was handing out schedules. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Longbottom, as both of your O.W.L. results were returned, unopened, I have them here for you," she said with a look of mild disapproval on her face as she handed each of them their letters. "You have until the end of breakfast to notify me of what classes you wish to take this year."

Harry casually opened the envelope, marveling how knowing his skills far exceeded what they had been made these once important results seem trivial. He glanced at his scores and wasn't terribly surprised by his results.

Astronomy: Acceptable (A)

Care of Magical Creatures: Exceeds Expectations (E)

Charms: Outstanding (O)

Defense Against the Dark Arts: O

Divination: Poor (P)

Herbology: E

History of Magic: Dreadful (D)

Potions:E

Transfiguration: E

He had, at the beginning of the summer, decided that regardless of what his scores were, he would not take another class from Snape. As such, deciding on his schedule was fairly easy; Care of Magical Creatures, Charms, Herbology, Potions and Transfiguration. He slightly regretted not taking Defense, but reasoned that three of his five years at Hogwarts, he may as well have not taken the class for all he learned.

Finishing off his quick breakfast, Harry quickly made his way to his head of house at the head table.

"Have you made your selections, Mr. Potter?" she questioned.

"Yes Professor," Harry responded, "I will be taking Care, Charms, Herbology, Potions and Transfiguration."

The deputy headmistress frowned at him, "are you certain you aren't forgetting a class, Mr. Potter?"

"No Professor," Harry answered honestly, knowing exactly what she was getting at, "I decided months ago that I wouldn't take another class with Professor Snape again. I had assumed that he would be teaching Potions and not Defense, but in the end, it doesn't matter. He is unable to set aside his hostility and bias against my family, and I have no desire to take a third Defense class taught by a Death Eater."

"Mr. Potter!" McGonagall snapped, "That is quite enough!"

"I see, I get rebuked for having a negative opinion about a man who has earned it, but a grown man may say whatever he likes about me and to me or a grown woman will torture multiple students with a blood quill and you will tell them to keep their heads down. Some example of the house of courage you are," that said Harry turned to walk away.

"Detention, Mr. Potter, and ten points from Gryffindor!" Minerva stated in anger, "Report to my office at 7 PM this evening. Here is your schedule, be on your way," she thrust the forgotten parchment at Harry.

Harry grabbed the parchment and without a glance at it or his head of house, turned and walked away, muttering under his breath, "Truth hurts, doesn't it." His last comment was just loud enough for the Transfiguration professor to hear it. As he walked away, Harry missed the disturbed look on the woman's face.

Though he didn't really consider where the vitriol had come from, confronting his head of house over some of her, upon reflection, many failings on his behalf, was cathartic. With a spring in his step, Harry glanced at his schedule and headed to the Potions dungeon.

Unlike in previous years, the dungeon door stood open, with the brewing stations slowly filling up with students from all four houses as they trickled into the classroom. Hermione had picked a station in the front corner and sat Ron next to her, continuing her Harry boycott, so the Boy Who Lived took a seat next to Lisa and behind Susan and Kevin; Tracey and Neville not having elected to take N.E.W.T. Potions.

Slughorn entered the room from the Potions office and casually flicked his wand, closing the door to the room, "Welcome, to N.E.W.T. Potions," he greeted them brightly, "you are all in this class because you have shown adequate potions skills to earn E's or better on your O.W.L.s. Now I know some of you have been caught unaware by the change in the O.W.L. requirements to get into this class and as such do not have the potions book. I have several copies of the book on the shelf at the back of the room for those of you in this situation."

Harry volunteered to retrieve books for his comrades, got up and grabbed 4 copies of the Potions book. He returned to his station handing out the top two to Kevin and Susan and the next to Lisa, leaving him with the bottom copy; which was ratty and beat up, with notes and ink blotches written all over on and in it. Shrugging, Harry settled himself for class.

Slughorn again waved his wand, revealing three cauldrons sitting on his desk at the front of the class, the contents two of the cauldrons masked, while the third was filled with a clear liquid. "Who can tell me what is in the first cauldron," the rotund man asked, "it's an odorless and colorless, but extremely powerful and useful."

Hermione's hand shot into the air at the beginning of his explanation of the unknown potions properties.

"Yes, Ms. Granger," Slughorn called on her.

"It's Veritaserum, Professor," she answered immediately.

"Very Good, Ms. Granger, 5 points to Gryffindor," Slughorn replied. With another flick of his wand, the cauldron containing the truth serum was again covered and the second cauldron's contents revealed.

Harry knew what the next potion was before the man even started speaking and his hand shot up in the air in time with Hermione's. Slughorn seemed briefly surprised that not only one, but two students recognized the potion by sight alone.

"Mr. Potter," he called on Harry, "do you know what potion this is?"

"Yes sir," Harry answered, "It's Polyjuice Potion, sir."

"Good, Mr. Potter. 5 points to Gryffindor," the professor praised, "what can you tell me about it."

"Polyjuice potion is used to impersonate or physically turn into another person. What you have there is the potion before the final ingredient, a piece of the person you wish to change into, has been added. Polyjuice can be used to change into a person of either gender, but attempting to change into an animal will result in a partial transformation that requires medical treatment to reverse," Harry recited, unable to keep from glancing at Hermione and smiling slightly at the thought of her catgirl impression several years before.

"Very good, Mr. Potter; very good. That will be another 5 points to Gryffindor," Harry dutifully smiled at his professor and ignored the glare coming from Hermione.

Slughorn covered the Polyjuice potion again and uncovered a third cauldron, this one a shiny pearl color, with odd spirals of steam rising from its surface. It smelled particularly pleasant to Harry, somehow familiar, but it took him a moment to recognize the smell of apple blossom, olive trees and sea air that he had smelled when the Mages had gone to the bathhouse over the summer.

While Harry was distracted identifying the smell, Hermione had earned Gryffindor another 5 points by identifying the potion as Amortentia and was rattling off all sorts of obscure facts about the love potion.

"I believe a general overview is enough information for now Ms. Granger," Professor Slughorn interrupted smiling, "but your knowledge of love potions is very," he paused as if searching for an appropriate word, deciding on "extensive." His look lingered on Hermione for just a moment of awkward silence before he continued, "Love potions may seem like a lot of fun, but any potion than interferes with a person's free will can be very dangerous," he added still watching the Gryffindor prefect and then let the subject drop all together. It was only years of instinctive fear of Snape's wrath that prevented all but the Slytherins from laughing at Hermione's sudden discomfort and resultant blush.

Professor Slughorn took no notice of this, or deliberately ignored it, instead producing a small vial of what appeared to be liquid gold. "Does anyone know what this is?" he asked the class.

No hands rose, and not a few members of the class stared hard at Hermione who looked like she knew the answer, but was, for once, hesitant to volunteer information.

"No one?" Slughorn questioned, and waited. When no response was forthcoming, he continued, "This vial contains what is commonly called liquid luck; its proper name is Felix Felicis. One small dose like this one," he shook the molten gold colored liquid, "will last for twelve hours. Once consumed, the potion gives the drinker an exhilarating sense of confidence and a tremendous sense of opportunity. Until the effects wear off, all the drinker's endeavors will tend to succeed. However, if taken in excess the potion causes giddiness, recklessness, and dangerous overconfidence, and it is highly toxic in large quantities."

Every eye in the Potions class was locked onto Slughorn and the small vial of gold he held. The Potions professor smiled and warned, "Be aware, before you get any idea's, that this potion is a banned substance in organized competitions such as sporting events, examinations, or elections and is desperately tricky to make and disastrous to get wrong."

Several people blanched at this pronouncement, while others expressions hardened. Malfoy, Harry noticed, looked like he was trying to figure out how to steal the vial right at that moment.

"Now," Slughorn began again, "today we will be brewing the Draught of Living Death. The individual that I judge to have brewed the best potion out of this class will win this vial of Felix Felicis. Instructions can be found on page 47 in your books, ingredients are at the back of the room. Begin."

Harry opened his beat up potions book, while various ideas for what he could use the luck potion for were dancing in his head. "Get it together," he muttered to himself focusing on the task at hand. He grimaced as he saw that the instructions in his potions book were scribbled out and hand written in the margins. "There goes liquid luck," he lamented to himself quietly.

The next hour and a half proceeded as any normal Potions class, minus Snape yelling and turning a blind eye to Slytherins sabotaging Gryffindor potions.

It was a very surprised Harry, not to mention the rest of the potions class that found him holding the vial of golden luck potion at the end of class, as it was well know that he had been taking remedial potions classes throughout fifth year. After packing away the potion, wrapping it in his invisibility cloak in his bag, Harry followed Neville out of the classroom door and heard the distinctive malicious voice of Draco Malfoy shout "Avada Kedavra."

Time slowed for Harry, as the distinctive green glare of the death curse lit up the corridor. The air seemed to sizzle and pop, Harry heard the rushing sound of coming death followed, strangely by the sound of breaking glass and then the world went black.

----

"Harry Potter," he heard Dumbledore's voice call out, "Harry Potter," the Headmasters voice said with more urgency. He felt someone nudge his arm.

"Harry," Hermione's voice whispered loudly, and he was nudged again. Things swam into vision and Harry found himself sitting at a crowded Gryffindor table. He looked around in confusion; the lighting in the Great Hall was strangely dark and cast in an odd but familiar hue.

"Harry!" Hermione's voice grew more insistent as she practically shoved him from his chair, towards the Headmaster. He stumbled a bit, before getting his feet under him, and slowly made his way to the front of the hall where Dumbledore stood holding a slightly charred piece of paper. His eyes widened and he whipped his head about to confirm his suspicions…his name had just come out of the Goblet of Fire!

Stunned, Harry wandered back to the antechamber where the champions were assembled wondering just what was going on until his mind supplied an answer; the power he knows not. He'd gone back in time, he could stop Voldemort from rising, he could save Cedric; he could refuse to compete in the tournament.

While Harry was having his epiphany, an argument had broken out in the room about his name coming out of the Goblet and what to do about it. Finally breaking from his stupor Harry was just in time to hear Bartemius Crouch state that he had to compete.

"I don't want to compete Mr. Crouch, I didn't enter my name," Harry said strongly, that his voice cracked slightly not only made his firm statement seem silly, but it reminded him he had yet to hit his growth spurt yet and was still in the body of a short for his age 14 year old.

"The rules are the rules, Mr. Potter," Crouch stated, his voice achieving the firm tones Harry had been going for. "I'm afraid the magic of the contract will compel you to compete to the best of your abilities."

Harry smiled slightly, Hermione had, later in the year come up with a way out of the tournament for him, however it had been after the first task, and as such it was too late to implement. But that was no longer the case, "declare the tournament a draw, and then resubmit the three champions," he suggested, "that nullifies any contract in existence and allows the tournament to proceed as intended." Harry didn't miss the looks that both the fake Moody and Dumbledore shot him. Moody scowled and frowned, while Dumbledore looked suspicious.

"There, Mr. Crouch, an amiable solution for all," Karkaroff stated, patting Krum on his back.

"I agree, Mr. Crouch," Madam Maxim began, then turned to the Hogwarts headmaster, "Dumblydore, it is not a small thing to change the rules to those of Durmstrang, but Beauxbatons will forfeit our next rotation of the tournament in favor of Hogwarts if requested."

"No need, dear lady, Durmstrang will forfeit hosting the next tournament if Hogwarts honors our traditions," Karkaroff replied.

"There is little I can do but agree," Dumbledore answered reluctantly in the face of the approval of both of his counterparts. Shooting one last glance at Harry, Dumbledore led the other school heads out of the room along with Bagman and Crouch. The fake Moody stumped out a moment later, leaving Harry, Krum, Fleur and Cedric with Snape, and McGonagall.

"So, you really didn't enter the tournament?" Cedric asked.

"I really didn't," Harry replied earnestly, "I have no desire for fame or glory. I have too much fame as it is and glory is overrated." Snape snorted, but held his tongue, content to glare at him. He felt a tickle against his Occlumency barriers and turned his full attention to the Potions master, smirking.

Snape frowned and glared, and the probe against Harry's mental shields intensified. When it became obvious to both parties that Snape could not penetrate the young Gryffindor's defenses, he scowled and with a swish of his cloak, returned to the great hall.

"So…" Cedric said, trying to fill the awkward silence, "did anyone see the world cup?"

Krum chuckled and Harry laughed outright, Cedric looked confused for a moment before realizing that of the four champions, one played in the game and another took the same Portkey as he did to the match, he blushed and began laughing himself.

"I do not get what is funny," Fleur protested at the three laughing young men. Cedric quickly explained to the French girl, who giggled and even McGonagall smiled slightly. Harry reflected that the camaraderie between the champions in the last tournament, never reached the easiness that the four now shared and felt that they somehow were recognizing him as an equal this time.

Harry was still overwhelmed, and not a little bit unsure he wasn't dreaming, but as things felt real, he decided to treat them as such. His attention shifted to his Transfiguration professor as the group fell into a comfortable silence and his confrontation with the woman before his jump. He had mixed feelings about his head of house, she was a good, if stern teacher, but he resented her for several instances where he felt she failed her house, particularly during Umbridge's reign of terror. Idly he wondered if she'd believe him if he outed the fake Moody, he doubted it. Best to play it close to the chest for now as the man really had been a good teacher for the most part.

But that was the future, a future that may no longer occur even. Harry resolved to give her the benefit of the doubt but he would personally be distancing himself from her and would not expect her to look out for his best interests. This led to who he could confide in that would. Remus held himself too aloof for Harry to really bond with him, so he was out. Dumbledore had let him down more than any other adult in his life, Dursley's included, so Harry wouldn't be confiding in the headmaster. That left only one legitimate confidant, in his mind, Professor Flitwick, Captain of the Mages, retired. Besides, Harry thought, he still had training to complete.

It was nearly ten minutes later when the three school heads, Crouch and Bagman returned with the fake Moody carrying the sealed Goblet of Fire. Harry nearly groaned at the sight and resolved himself to having to compete in the tournament anyway. The group led the champions back into the Great Hall where they lined up behind the staff table with Bagman on one end and Crouch on the other.

Dumbledore stepped to the podium with the fake Moody, who set the goblet down before him. The headmaster began to speak, "after careful review and questioning, it has been determined that Harry Potter's name was added as a prank and without his knowledge, as such, the tournament has been called a draw." Dumbledore held up his hands to quiet the frantic whispering that broke out at his pronouncement, "this is a necessary step in order to negate the magical contract the Goblet's selection of Mr. Potter entails. All of the previous names, except for Mr. Potter's of course, have been reentered into the Goblet for selection."

Again the hall broke out into whispers, only this time instead of startled and upset, they were excited once again. Few people gave Harry a second look, for which he was grateful, though he knew it wasn't to last.

"As few may know," Dumbledore continued, "each time the Goblet of Fire selects champions it is done under a different set of rules, one set for Hogwarts, one set for Durmstrang and another set for Beauxbatons. With the draw and the second selection of champions, the tournament will now be held under Durmstrang rules. This means that instead of three tasks, spaced over the year, there shall be seven. This also means each champion may select an experienced witch or wizard who is not a judge to act as their council. Champions will be given further instructions, but I must say that we seem to be in for what I'm sure will be an exciting competition."

Dumbledore repeated his actions with the Goblet of Fire and again it spluttered and sparked and finally spit out a piece of paper, which the headmaster quickly snatched out of the air. "The champion from Durmstrang shall be Victor Krum," Dumbledore announced. 

Krum, who stood on the dais with the other former champions stepped forward and bowed as the Great Hall applauded, some even going so far as to chant his name before once again going into the antechamber.

The Goblet quickly spit out another charred piece of parchment, which swayed daintily through the air and gently came to rest in Dumbledore's hands, "The champion for Beauxbatons remains Fleur Delacour." The French girl curtseyed to the cheering crowd and quickly retreated out of the hall.

For a third time the flames within the Goblet began to dance and jump and flare, and for a third time a charred piece of parchment swooped from within the fire and landed in the Supreme Mugwump's outstretched hands. "The Hogwarts Champion remains Cedric Diggory," the headmaster read out.

Cedric looked relieved for a moment then smiled brightly at the crowd in the Great Hall, waved at his house table and walked out of the hall, his head held high.

"That concludes the rather extended Champion Selection Ceremony," Dumbledore announced with a benign smile, before a subtle cough from Professor Moody caught his attention. The Chief Warlock looked at the source of the cough, then to the Goblet of Fire just in time to see the goblet eject a fourth piece of parchment. With an economy of movement, Dumbledore impatiently snatched it from the air and read out "Harry Potter."

"Bugger!" Harry said loudly. With a sigh, Harry's shoulders slumped and he trudged towards the antechamber ignoring the loud chattering that spread across the Great Hall.

The three champions looked up from their respective positions around the room when Harry entered. Cedric, being the more observant and most familiar with Harry hesitantly asked, "Again?" Harry merely nodded affirmatively. It wasn't long before the trio of headmasters, Bagman, Crouch, McGonagall, Snape and the fake Moody entered the room arguing rather loudly.

"A switching spell, perhaps," Karkaroff stated.

"I do not believe so, Igor," Dumbledore answered, "I believe this is a more nefarious situation than a simple prank."

"You mean…" the Durmstrang head began, only to be interrupted.

"I do," Dumbledore agreed, "we shall talk later about this, for now I believe we have enough to be getting on with."

"Very well Albus," Igor replied, "But we will talk about this."

"Of course," Dumbledore answered easily, "Now, we need to determine two things. The first is how Mr. Potter was entered into the tournament against his will, yet again, and the second is if yet another redraw of champions shall be in order." Snape, who was carrying the Goblet of Fire, set it before Dumbledore. Harry took this to mean that there was at least some suspicion towards the fake Moody already. He nearly snorted at the thought that he felt more comfortable with Snape handling his fate than the fake Moody.

After checking over each of the pieces of parchment remaining in the Goblet and those of the champions for spells, bewitchments, jinxes and so forth, Dumbledore turned his attention and his wand on the dormant Goblet of Fire. The cup lit up with dozens of runes, each glowing different colors. The Hogwarts Headmaster frowned and Karkaroff cussed. Harry tried to follow what they were doing, but it was magic well beyond that which he understood.

"Headmaster, I'm not an expert in Arithmancy or Runes by any means, but does this mean what I believe it means?" Snape asked quietly.

"It does, Severus," Dumbledore answered, then turning to the audience at large he informed them "the enchantments on the Goblet of Fire have been altered, a new conditional enchantment has been introduced. That new enchantment requires Harry Potter to compete in every tournament until a true victor has been declared."

"Can you undo the enchantments, Albus," Madam Maxime questioned.

"Alas, I cannot without undoing all of the enchantments on the Goblet itself," Dumbledore said warily, "it appears as though Mr. Potter is bound to compete."

"Who could accomplish such a thing?" the half giantess asked.

"Only somebody gifted with enchantments with plenty of power to back them up," the fake Moody stated gruffly, "I doubt there's more than four or five students across the three schools with the power to do so and none of them with the skill or access needed. No, I believe we should be looking for a dark wizard or wizards unknown."

Harry marveled at the man's audacity and at his acting. If he didn't know better even after having met the real Moody, he'd have trouble telling them apart; Crouch Jr. was very convincing. This thought stirred a long forgotten memory of Crouch Sr. mumbling about his son's O.W.L. scores being very impressive, perhaps that hadn't been entirely the hallucination.

"I believe that we should get on with things then, as we cannot change them," Dumbledore suggested, turning his attention now to the four Triwizard Tournament Champions. "There shall be seven tasks that will test you mentally, physically, emotionally and magically as you well know. The Durmstrang rules for the tournament state that you each are able to select any wizard or witch that is not a judge to act as your coach and guide, provided said wizard or witch agrees to act in that capacity. Once they have agreed and you have declared them as your council, you may not select another, regardless of their level of support. As is tradition, you must declare your council before the beginning of the first task. The first task shall be held on the south lawn on November 15th at ten in the morning. No further information or instruction will be provided to you about this task until you arrive to compete. And of course, you are all excused from your end of year exams in order to allow you proper time to prepare for the tournament. Are there any questions?" When nobody voiced any, the man continued, "You are dismissed to rejoin your classmates. Good evening."

As the group began breaking up, Harry motioned to the headmaster. When he had gotten the man's attention he asked, "Can you explain, at least in general, about my unwitting entry to the school. I'd rather avoid having them all turn on me once again."

"I had not considered their reactions," Dumbledore admitted, "but I will do as you ask, Harry. Take care in picking your council, you above the others will need it I fear."

Harry silently agreed, though for a different reason than Dumbledore expected. It had been a long and confusing day, what with dying and traveling through time only to be entered into the Triwizard Tournament against his will for the second and third times.

**Thank you to the people who helped me with this story either directly or indirectly. Thank you to everyone on the FFA forums.**

**Thanks to VoodooLady, VoodooMom and Meg for beta reading this.**

**I will be responding to comments and questions directly on the forums at **


	4. Chapter 3

**JKR owns Harry Potter…me, not so much**

_**Chapter 3**_

Harry and Cedric were walking side by side through the Great Hall and towards their dorms after the Champions meeting had broken up when Harry broke the silence, asking "Cedric, can you please let the Hufflepuff's know I had no intention of entering and did not want to steal your moment or anything of the like?"

Cedric stopped for a moment and looked at the younger boy, "I will Harry. With the Headmaster's revelation about the reason for the redraw and your own reaction, I would hope that they would be able to see for themselves…" he trailed off, nothing further needing to be said about how people tended to react to the Boy Who Lived. The pair parted ways in continued silence at the grand staircase, Cedric going down towards the kitchens while Harry began his walk up the first of seven stories of stairs.

As Harry reached the third floor, he decided upon a detour before heading on to what he was sure was another impromptu party in Gryffindor celebrating glory and all that rot. Heading down the Charms corridor, he was glad to see that Professor Flitwick's office was lit and the door slightly ajar. Approaching, he knocked and waited.

"Yes, come in," called the squeaky high pitched voice of the diminutive professor and former dueling champion.

"Professor," Harry started, entering the room, "I'd like to ask you to be my council if nobody else already has," he said getting straight to the heart of the matter.

Flitwick looked at him a moment in confusion, before nodding and answering, "Of course I will act as your council, dear boy, of course. May I inquire what it is that made you pick me of all of the options available to you?"

Harry smiled and replied, "Well, aside from being a Charms master and a dueling champion, I figure that the head of Ravenclaw house must be well versed in many types of magic," he said with a smile, then proving once again that he lacked any subtlety at all, he continued, "plus I need to report to my commanding officer, Captain Flitwick sir. Lieutenant Potter reporting as ordered."

The professor's demeanor changed instantly, his wand snapping to his hand. With a wave the door sealed itself; another wave and Harry knew the man had erected privacy wards. The normally jovial teacher was gone and in his place was a hardened veteran who said only two words, "explain, now!"

"Yes sir," Harry responded instantly to the command out of reflex, "When I woke up this morning, it was September 2nd 1996, sir. At your request, during the summer of '96, after Voldemort was resurrected and publicly revealed, several students were recruited for accelerated Mage training. We trained under Captain Thomas Payne and Commander Francis Bacon, our mission was to keep surveillance on certain high priority targets inaccessible to any other team as well as to search Hogwarts for dark objects and destroy them. I was just leaving my first class when Draco Malfoy cursed me in the back with the killing curse. I blacked out for a moment, and when I regained my senses, I was sitting in the Great Hall just after my name came out of the Goblet of Fire."

Flitwick regarded Harry in silence for several moments, brushing against his Occlumency shields briefly. "I believe you, though since you've never sworn your duty to the Mages in this timeline, I believe Mr. Potter and Professor Flitwick are our correct titles for now." The man frowned for a moment, "Tell me, do you know when and how Voldemort was resurrected?"

"To an extent sir, I was an eyewitness, but I am not familiar with the method he used," Harry replied, "May 15th, 1995 was the date, the location is the graveyard in a town called Little Hangleton. Voldemort was, and is even now, inhabiting some sort of disturbing magical construct homunculus. The ceremony required bone of the father unknowingly taken, flesh of the servant, willingly given and blood of the enemy forcefully taken; in this case he used my blood, sir. The Triwizard cup had been turned into a Portkey by Barty Crouch Jr. who is Polyjuiced into Professor Moody, that transported Cedric and me to the graveyard where Peter Pettigrew murdered Cedric then performed the ceremony."

"That is enough information, I believe, for me to identify the ceremony, but it will take some time," the Professor retorted, "What else about the future can you tell me, Mr. Potter?"

Harry winced, "Until I tried to be clever and refuse to participate in the ceremony without thinking through the consequences, I could have told you all of the events in the tournament and how I survived them. But that's out the window now. I believe you need to know that there is a prophecy concerning Voldemort and me in the Hall of Prophecies that he will obsess over until it is destroyed. It states that one of us must die at the hands of the other, neither can live while the other survives, and that I have a power the Dark Lord knows not." He paused, thinking, "Let's see, Rita Skeeter is an illegal Animagus, a beetle. Deloris Umbridge is a horrible Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and should be avoided by any means. She also set loose a pair of dementors after me and my cousin in an effort to silence me or to railroad me out of Hogwarts for the use of underage magic. All of this was with the full support of Minister Fudge, who was, or will be replaced by Rufus Scrimgeour after Voldemort is revealed."

"I see," the Professor acknowledged, "I have several follow up questions," at Harry's go ahead nod, he half asked, half stated "Peter Pettigrew and Barty Crouch Jr. are both dead."

"No sir, Pettigrew was an illegal Animagus, a rat, and hid out as the Weasley family rat until last year, when he was revealed by Sirius Black, who is innocent. Remus Lupin, Ron, Hermione and I all were witnesses to this as well. Barty Crouch Jr. was saved from Azkaban as his mother's last wish. Crouch Sr. and his wife visited him with a supply of Polyjuice, I guess she was rather ill," Flitwick nodded, "anyway, she Polyjuiced into Junior and Junior into her and Senior took Junior home under the Imperius curse, where he kept him until Junior broke free at the World Cup this year. It was he that conjured the Dark Mark."

"Very well," the Mage Captain stated, "I must admit this is a little overwhelming," the man said, his demeanor once again becoming that of the happy and excitable professor. "Do you know when Barty Crouch Jr. replaces the real Professor Moody?"

"Yes sir, he already has sir." Harry answered, "The Moody that arrived at Hogwarts during the feast is Crouch Jr. The real Mad Eye is held hostage in the seventh compartment of his seven key trunk."

"I see, do you have any way to prove this, preferably without you having to expose your future knowledge," Flitwick asked.

Harry thought for a moment before an idea came to him, "I do sir, it's not concrete, but should be enough to raise suspicion," he grimaced a little, "I have a map that shows me where everyone is in the castle, real time no matter if they are under a glamour, Polyjuice or if they are an Animagus. In my original time through forth year I spotted Junior on the map, but I didn't understand what it meant until it was too late."

"I believe that is enough for tonight," Flitwick decided, "we will announce me as your council in the morning. After classes, come to my office with that map and we'll work from there," Harry nodded and stood, knowing he was being dismissed.

"Yes sir, thank you sir," the young Gryffindor answered.

"You seem to be taking all of this very much in stride Harry," Flitwick pointed out in a concerned voice.

Harry nodded, answering, "I've been doing what is necessary in case all of this turns out to be real, sir. I don't have another option."

"You do Harry, you could have panicked and broken down. I think you are acquitting yourself quite well. Know that I'm here as more than your professor, council and would be commanding officer. If you ever need to talk…" the diminutive man let the sentence trail off.

"Thank you," Harry replied with heartfelt gratitude. He turned towards the door, to head to the tower and yet another challenge.

"One more thing Harry," the professor called.

"Yes sir?"

"Start doing an assessment of as many classmates as possible, how trustworthy they are, their wand skills, O.W.L. scores if you know them and any information you believe is pertinent," the man ordered.

"Yes sir," Harry said with a smile, as he remembered the DA and how he had left out mentioning it to the Professor.

After leaving Flitwicks' office, it wasn't long before Harry arrived at Gryffindor tower and the portrait of the Fat Lady, unfortunately for Harry, two years and dozens of password changes rendered him speechless as the guardian asked for the password.

"I…uhhh…I forgot," Harry mumbled to the portrait, "any chance you could let somebody know I'm stuck out here?"

"I'm afraid not, dear," the Fat Lady replied.

"How about giving me a clue," Harry inquired.

"Sorry," she replied, though she didn't sound very sorry.

"Bloody hell," Harry cursed.

"That's not the password," the Fat Lady said, sounding entirely too smug.

"Oddsbodkins, flibbertigibbet, fairy lights, pig snout, scurvy cur, balderdash!" Harry shouted, repeating every password he could remember. Oddly enough, the Fat Lady nodded and the porthole opened.

"Bugger, I still don't know which one was the password," he grumbled as climbed past the open portrait.

"Balderdash, dear," he heard the portraits voice answer.

Harry entered common room, braced for what he knew was to come, he wasn't really in the mood for a party, he was barely holding his sanity together, trying to adjust to what had happened and react to it the best he could. Without his Mage training, he knew, he would have lost it by now.

The room erupted in cheers and Fred and George lifted Harry on their shoulders, carrying him to the middle of the room, chanting "Potter, Potter, Potter!" Someone wrapped a sash around him proclaiming him Triwizard champion, and someone else was calling for a speech. Harry held his hands up, calling for quiet.

"Today has been strange beyond the telling of it," he said loudly, as the rest of the Gryffindors quieted, "I was entered into the Triwizard Tournament against my will. I do not seek eternal glory nor do I seek some prize money. I do not seek out the danger of this tournament, but found it I have." There was some muttering now among the crowd, but Harry pressed on, "Danger is nothing new to me, so whoever entered me will get no satisfaction from my fear, because I do not fear this. I may not have a choice but to compete, regardless, I intend to win! I'm a Gryffindor, and Gryffindors go forward!" Harry shouted the last; playing up the part of the hero they wanted of him. It was a role Harry had dreamed of fulfilling once and now with the line between what was real and what was not so blurred, it was the role he would willingly step into.

There was a roar of approval from the assembled Gryffindors. Butterbeer flowed freely, and there was much laughing and music and merrymaking into the night as the house of the Lion had a champion. Harry found himself being pulled from one group to another around the room like some sort of prize; he was congratulated by most of the elder years, and awed many of the lower years as if he had accomplished some amazing feat.

Finally, Harry managed to break free of the cycle and found himself surrounded by his Quidditch teammates. In the past, much as he had tried, he never had been able to really fit with them off of the pitch. Maybe it was the extra two years of life experience showing through, or that he was not held back by insecurities, but this night Harry felt like he belonged among the group.

Butterbeer flowed freely and conversation roamed from the tournament and Quidditch to music, to pranks and to flirting. At one point, Harry ate an innocuous piece of toffee, forgetting the golden rule of not accepting candy from the Weasley twins, and found his tongue shooting three feet out of his mouth. Harry waggled it about experimentally and found he had a fair amount of control causing no end of mirth for Fred and George. When he figured out how to move it like a wave, he wagged his eyebrows at Katie, and then winked at the girl causing her to blush spectacularly, Fred and George wiped fake tears from their eyes.

Harry was exhausted, mentally and physically by the time he had finally managed to extricate himself from the common room. Entering his dorm, he saw Ron sitting on his bed, a scowl on his face, and seemingly waiting to pounce. He just managed to bite back a groan.

As soon as he walked in, Ron stood up and angrily demanded, "How'd you do it?"

"Do what?" Harry replied in a tired voice.

"How did you enter the tournament," the redhead spat, "how did you get past the age line?"

"How did I do it," Harry repeated angrily, he was too tired to deal with this, "I didn't do it Ron, or didn't you hear me say that earlier?"

"I know you have to say that out there, Harry," Ron backpedaled slightly, but the tones of jealousy rang true in his voice, "but I'm your friend Harry, you should have taken me with you, we could have both entered."

"Is it so hard for you to believe me, Ron? Is it so hard to believe that somebody might want to enter me in a dangerous competition that I'm woefully prepared for? Is it difficult to imagine somebody hoping I'll get horribly injured or killed?" Harry demanded in return. "Or do you really believe that for the lure of glory and a thousand galleons that I somehow bypassed the Headmasters protections, and hoodwinked the cup into picking a forth champion. Then, if that weren't enough, I somehow managed to do it a second time; in front of the whole school and Dumbledore and Moody and the headmasters of both of the other schools, no less. Then, to top it all off and prevent them from doing a third drawing, I somehow enchanted the cup so that the greatest wizard of the age couldn't undo it. Do you really believe that?" Harry shouted in askance.

Ron stared back at him stubbornly, but didn't answer his question, "I'll tell you what Ron," Harry said in a deceptively calm voice, "I'll give you a thousand galleons free and clear; your winnings for completing one single task, how does that sound?" He pressed on, not giving the redhead time to respond, "All you have to do Ron, is pull your head out of your arse you bloody moron!" Without waiting for any further response, Harry stomped out of the room to bathroom to change and ready himself for sleep. When he returned, Ron's curtains were pulled shut.

Harry climbed into his own bed and closed the drapes around it. For the first time since whatever had happened, happened, he had time to himself to sit and think and realize the enormity of the situation. He had somehow survived the killing curse again, only to be thrown two years out of time. That meant Voldemort had not risen, Cedric had not died, and Sirius Black was still alive! Harry's mind stopped and his heart skipped a beat at this realization.

His godfather was alive, and it had taken him hours to realize it. He wasn't certain how to feel about that. On one hand, the thought was almost euphoric; on the other hand it was sorrowful. It had taken him nearly two months to come to grips with the reality of the man's loss, but he had not gotten over it by any means. Harry was only able to calm his breathing and regain his composure after simultaneously laughing and crying by the disciplined he had learned in order to successfully practice Occlumency. Slowly Harry calmed himself and fell into an uneasy sleep. His dreams playing out the good times and bad that he remembered, but that might never happen.

-----

Harry awoke early the next morning, a bad habit he had picked up in Mage training. He quietly dressed and left his sleeping dorm mates and headed to the Room of Requirement. When he arrived, he paced back and forth in front of the door three times, focusing on a track and field with a full rucksack. Over the next hour he pushed his body to the brink of exhaustion, the first day of many to regain his former fitness. His fourteen year old body was not out of shape by any means, but it was a long way from what he'd had.

His workout finished, Harry returned to Gryffindor tower, showered, and nipped to the Great Hall for a quick breakfast. The common room was slowly coming to life when he returned to it; intent on polishing his wand for the wand weighing ceremony he knew was scheduled for later that day. Harry set himself down and began taking care of his wand as his past self never had.

As he worked, Hermione seemed to materialize in a chair opposite his own, "Harry," she said seriously, "we need to talk."

"Oh," Harry replied mildly. He wasn't really interested in fighting with his other friend, nor was he interested in being chastised, which is what he was expecting to happen.

When it became clear that he had said all he was going to, Hermione huffed, then spoke, "You've changed, Harry. Whatever else happened yesterday, you're acting very different all of the sudden."

"Am I?" Harry asked, continuing "is that such a bad thing?"

"You are," Hermione insisted, ignoring his follow up question. "You've never wanted to be the center of attention, and last night, not only did you make a big production about being in the tournament, you spent the rest of the night with the twins, who are always the center of attention. I'm not trying to attack you Harry, I just want to understand."

"You're right, Hermione," he admitted, "I don't like being the center of attention. I don't like being different or special. Call it a learned reaction from the Dursleys, most of the times I've been the center of attention, I've gotten hurt," he pressed on, unwilling to allow her to make assumptions about deeper meanings of his words, "but I've come to the point where I have to accept that I am different, Hermione. I have been coming to this realization for a while, and last night when my name came out of the Goblet, I decided that I have to embrace what I am if I'm ever going to be happy with who I am."

Hermione sat looking at Harry as if he were a stranger before slowly nodding to herself, "I suppose I can understand why you feel that way, Harry," she admitted, and then changed gears, "So, have you decided who you're going to ask to be your council? You should ask Professor McGonagall, she is your head of house after all, or maybe you could ask Professor Moody…"

"I've already got my councilor, Hermione, I asked Professor Flitwick on my way back to the common room last night," Harry interrupted.

"Professor Flitwick?" She questioned, as if the idea hadn't occurred to her, "why Professor Flitwick?"

"A couple of reasons, Hermione," Harry replied, "He's the head of house for Ravenclaw, so he has to be nearly as knowledgeable as Dumbledore, he was a dueling champion in his youth and of all of the professors, I learn the best from him."

"Oh," Hermione seemed to deflate a little, "I guess that makes sense." She took a deep breath, "About Ron," she started.

"What did he tell you," Harry interrupted, wanting to know if Ron had been honest about their argument.

Apparently recognizing what he was asking, she replied, "He told me that you were lording about that you had money and were in the tournament. Why don't you tell me what happened."

"He's supposed to be my friend, Hermione; out of everyone, he's supposed to believe me, and he didn't believe I hadn't entered the tournament. He was only upset that he didn't get to enter. So I pointed out a few things about how often I end up in the middle of bad situations, and then offered him 1,000 galleons to pull his head out of his arse."

"That wasn't very nice, Harry," Hermione admonished, "he always has been in the…"

"Spare me the poor Ron and his inadequacy complex speech, Hermione," Harry snapped, "the simple fact is Ron feels inadequate because he is. He puts no effort into anything but chess and wants everything handed to him. He reminds me a lot Malfoy that way," Hermione scowled, but Harry pressed on, "I know that his heart is in the right place most of the time, Hermione, but I have enough to deal with without him acting like he's entitled to everything."

"I think you owe him an apology, Harry," Hermione said sternly.

"I think he owes me an apology, Hermione," Harry countered.

"I agree that he was out of line, Harry," Hermione admitted, "but you didn't have to be so mean about it to him. You hurt his pride, when you taunted him about money. It's a really touchy subject with him."

"I know it is, Hermione," Harry agreed, "but I can't help having it, just like he can't help having a living family. But I can't see him trying to see things from my point of view. I'll apologize to him, if he can see what all my money and fame cost me. He has a family that loves him, Hermione, and so do you, and I'm so jealous of that sometimes that I can hardly stand it. But I'd never let that feeling hurt our friendship and I'd never begrudge you having it while I don't."

Hermione flung herself out of her chair and grabbed Harry in a tight hug, "Oh, Harry, you do have a family, no matter what I'm here for you, and Sirius is too, Ron will come around, and even the twins think of you like family!"

"I know," Harry said calmly, hugging the girl back, it was good to have Hermione talking to him again, even if she was a younger version, she was still his best friend.

"Come on, we'd better get to class," Hermione said, much more secure in her friendship with Harry.

"I'm not going to class today Hermione," Harry responded, "There's a ceremony and press event that I have to go to," she looked at him in confusion and he rolled his eyes at her, "The Weighing of the Wands."

"Okay," Hermione smiled at him, "I'll let Professor Snape know," she said as she grabbed her bag.

"No sense in making yourself a target unnecessarily," Harry commented, "tell him if he asks, but don't go out of your way to do so."

"Alright," Hermione conceded, "Just don't make a habit out of skipping classes," she said with a mock glare.

"No promises, Hermione," Harry replied happily, "After all, I don't have any year end exams this year. What kind of normal teen would I be if I didn't take advantage of that just a little bit?"

After Hermione had left for class, Harry spent time relaxing and reading over his recent correspondence, reacquainting himself as much as he could with what was going in his life at that point. Thankfully, the common room was mostly empty and allowing him some peace, with only 6th and 7th years having the option of not having a class first thing and even then, there were only a few that didn't.

He had just finished putting away his letters and was going to head to the library to look for something to read when Collin Creevey found him, "Harry, I've been looking all over the castle for you!" the boy exclaimed, going on to explain that he'd been sent to find him for the ceremony.

Harry followed the young Gryffindor to the room where the other champions, Ludo Bagman, Rita Skeeter and her photographer Bozo were waiting for him. Bagman made introductions and explained the gathering as part of the Weighing of the Wands ceremony, and once again Rita Skeeter zeroed in on Harry, pulling him into a broom closet for a 'cozy' interview.

As soon as she had shut the door behind them, Harry smirked and cast a silencing charm, then immobilized her quick quotes quill. "Before we start with your interview, I wanted to say one thing off the record to you, if that's okay," Harry began shyly at her upraised eyebrow.

"Go ahead, sweetie," Rita said predatorily.

Harry's smile turned a little nasty, "I know you're an illegal Animagus and have the form of a beetle," Rita's smile froze as Harry continued, "Now, do you want to cooperate with me, or do you want me to expose you so you can get some in depth time with the dementors?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Skeeter replied with only the smallest hint in her voice that she was anything but calm and composed.

"Okay," Harry said happily, "I have no problem exposing you." He stood and began walking towards the door.

"Wait," she called out in panic, "wait, Mr. Potter, I'm very much enjoying your delusions, tell me more, my readers will love to hear it."

"I'm sure they will," Harry said with a smirk. "We don't have much time; Professor Dumbledore will be interrupting us long before I can explain what you can do to keep me from exposing you."

Rita nodded slightly, looking defeated, "cheer up, Ms. Skeeter, it won't be so bad, you might even get a few stories out of it." At this, the reporter snorted in disgust. "Trite as it sounds, after we leave here, meet me in the Astronomy tower tonight, and I'll explain. Until then, all I ask is that your article on the tournament be balanced, profiling all of the champions equally."

Before the woman could respond, Professor Dumbledore pulled open the door and blinked as he noticed Harry standing in the doorway. "It's time to begin the ceremony," he said, shooting a mildly disapproving glance at the Animagus reporter.

Things went as they had before; save for that Harry's wand appeared properly cared for, unlike the last time. With the ceremony over, Rita convinced the headmasters to allow her to get a quick profile of each contestant and a quote on why they entered the tournament. Harry went last, and with Professor Dumbledore standing over his shoulder, commented, "Somebody entered me into the tournament against my will, however as it is an honor to be a champion; I intend to do my best to do Hogwarts proud alongside her genuine champion, Cedric Diggory."

Shooting a scowl at Harry, Rita led her photographer from the room, and the champions were released for the day just in time for lunch. He was joined on his way to the Great Hall by Cedric. "I heard what you said in there Harry," The elder boy stated, "If I hadn't believed you before, I do now. Let's do what we can to ensure a Hogwarts victory, eh?"

"We will, Cedric," Harry agreed, "so, have you picked your councilor yet?" he asked, changing the subject.

"No, I was considering asking my father, it'd be an honor for him and all, but much as I love him, I don't honestly think he could help me win," Cedric admitted, "how about you?"

Harry smiled, "Professor Flitwick," he answered, "we'll be announcing it today, whenever we're both in the same place."

"Flitwick?" Cedric questioned, "I'd have thought for sure you'd have gone with McGonagall or Moody."

"Everybody thinks that, apparently," Harry replied, "I don't know Moody well enough to trust him, and I learn better from Flitwick than McGonagall. I never really thought of asking anybody outside of the school though." Cedric nodded but didn't reply and the pair split, each heading to their own house table once they reached the hall.

Harry noticed, with some amusement, that the 'Support Cedric Diggory' badges were back, as he sat down. He was pleased to see that outside of Slytherin, very few of the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were wearing the badges. He hoped that between Dumbledore announcing again that he was entered against his will, his quote to Skeeter and his picking Flitwick as his council, that the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws would be pacified and everyone but the Slytherin's would stay off his back.

"Hey Nev," Harry said sitting down next to the Longbottom scion, noting that was Ron sitting down the table with Seamus and Dean, and Hermione wasn't at lunch.

"Hey Harry," the shy Gryffindor answered, "Where were you during potions?"

Harry sighed, "there was a Triwizard Tournament ceremonial Weighing of the Wands as well as pictures and a brief interview for the Prophet," he lowered his voice and leaned towards Neville a bit saying, "I was also taking advantage of the fact that I don't have end of year exams, and ditching Snape's class."

Neville laughed and shook his head, "I envy you that," he replied, and then sobered slightly, "you should know there was an incident with Malfoy though." Harry's smile faded, "he was insulting you and had these badges…"

"I've seen the badges," Harry interjected.

"Yeah, anyway, Hermione was defending you and Malfoy cursed her," Neville explained, "Ron jumped to her defense, right as Snape showed up. He wasn't even going to let her go to the hospital wing to get her teeth fixed, the git! Hermione ran off, and Ron ended up with a week's detention, then got kicked out of class and lost 50 points for trying to defend Hermione!"

Harry shook his head in dismay, no matter what time he was in; Snape was allowed to do as he pleased. It didn't seem like much of a cover, as he was obviously given leeway other teachers were not. It wasn't a large leap of logic to figure out just why that was; if one knew that he was a marked Death Eater.

When he had finished eating, Harry stood and approached the head table. With a nod to the Charms professor, he announced, "Professor Dumbledore, I have asked Professor Flitwick to act as my council for the Triwizard Tournament."

Dumbledore looked to the professor in question, "And your reply, Filius?"

Flitwick's high pitched voice rang out through the hall, "I have accepted the position as Harry Potter's Triwizard council," he said formally.

"Very well," Dumbledore intoned.

The Charms professor turned his attention from the headmaster to Harry, "do you intend to attend any classes today Mr. Potter?"

"No sir, I don't," Harry answered honestly.

"Meet me in my classroom after lunch then and we'll get you started on some preliminary training," Flitwick ordered.

"Yes sir," Harry responded, his training coming to the fore. Fighting off the urge to salute the man, he returned to his seat next to Neville to eat his lunch.

Dumbledore stood half way through the meal and announced the details of how Harry was entered into the tournament. While the headmaster was making his announcement, Harry was watching Ron for his reaction. The redhead scowled, shot a glance at Harry, and then left the Great Hall, his lunch only half eaten.

----

Flitwick was waiting for in his office when Harry arrived. The Charms professor invited him in when he knocked and quickly got to the point of their meeting.

"I must say, Harry, that the information you provided yesterday has been at the forefront of my mind," the Professor began. "I have several of my contacts investigating the resurrection ceremony _He _used and how best to disrupt it. Working from the description you provided, it may take some time, but I'm confident we'll be able to stop him. I contacted the Mages and they are looking into Little Hangleton, at the least they will be removing the bones of all of Riddle's blood relatives buried there."

Harry nodded, it was a reasonable strategy. He was impressed at how quickly the Professor had begun work on the information he had provided. He was sure, now more than ever, that trusting Flitwick was the right thing to do.

"Now, I have been trying to come up with a reasonable way of exposing Crouch Jr. and rescuing Alastor without exposing your secret," the Charms professor stated, "I believe that the use of your map, however clever and accurate it is, should be our last resort as it's veracity will be questionable and it will undoubtedly be confiscated before I can figure out how to duplicate it," he said. "What can be done, though it's unfortunately a slower process, is to use Skeeter." He grimaced in distaste, "Threaten to expose her if she doesn't play along and then feed her the information and let her weasel out proof then expose it publicly."

"I've sort of already started that sir," Harry admitted. At the retired Captains look he explained, "She ambushed me at the weighing of the wands ceremony. I told her that I knew she was an Animagus, that I wanted fair press and that in order to avoid being exposed; she needed to meet me tonight at the Astronomy Tower at midnight. I was going to ask for your input on how to handle her."

"Did you now?" Flitwick replied thoughtfully, "we'll have to come up with a list of leads and their priority and set her loose. Better to use the carrot than the stick, she's likely to betray you later rather than sooner that way." Harry agreed; it wasn't a matter of if, it was a matter of when.

"Sir," he though suddenly, "could we use her to push Sirius innocence, lack of trial and expose Pettigrew as still being alive?"

"I suppose you could give an interview about that, Harry," the part goblin reasoned, "and the other witnesses could give their accounts as well, but public opinion isn't on your side with Sirius Black, so it's best to hold off on that for now unless you can come up with some evidence that Pettigrew is alive."

"How about I give her the basics as a low priority investigation and let her look into it? At the very least she'll probably be able to expose further corruption in the ministry," Harry commented.

"Very well," Flitwick answered, "Is there anything else you can think of that we should be acting on?"

"The dementors," Harry answered, "If or when Voldemort is resurrected, they let all of the Death Eaters in Azkaban escape. They abandoned the prison themselves a year later, though the Mages captured them somehow."

"Yes, they've long been considered a threat; but there is a plan in place for them. It's a relief to know it will be effective," Flitwick responded, and when Harry couldn't come up with anything more of immediate or moderate concern, the Professor continued, "If you think of anything else, write it down and come see me as soon as you can."

"Yes sir," Harry agreed. "Sir?" he questioned, "do you know why I came back?"

Flitwick gave Harry a thoughtful look, "I've been trying to come up with a reason why it happened and why you were sent to when you were and thus far, I haven't come up with much. There are a small number of spells that I'm aware of that can displace a soul in time like you have been, but none of them are capable of more than a few seconds of displacement and all are borderline black magic. I'm afraid that time magic is very limited; or at least the knowledge of it is. I shall continue to research this, however." Harry nodded, but it was apparent that he wasn't particularly happy with that answer, "give it time, Harry. You only just arrived yesterday." Harry nodded again and the Professor pressed on, "now, unless there is something else, let's figure out what to say to Skeeter, write out a list of what we want her to investigate and the information we know ahead of time. It's not inconceivable that she'll find things you didn't know about in the future that could cause problems, well…in the future. We should request approval of what information she gathers before she releases it."

"That makes sense," Harry answered, "that will give us a heads up before we start making enemies."

Harry and the Charms Professor spent the next forty five minutes writing out all of the information they'd be giving to Skeeter. When they were done, the shorter man smiled at the young wizard saying, "That takes care of that. Now we need to figure out where you are in your training so we know where to start."

"Well, I could show you, I guess," Harry said, drawing his wand.

"No, no, Harry," Flitwick motioned him to stop, "I believe that it will be of benefit to us both to alleviate any questions about your increased skills ahead of time." Harry smiled sheepishly not having considered that. "Only some of your new skills can be explained by you holding back or not trying your best in class. I think that we need to create the appearance of a lot of hard work."

"I've already told Cedric that I picked you because I learn best from you," Harry replied, "so it would make sense for me to learn quickly with individual instruction, hard work and a little bit of panic. I know I did in the original timeline."

"In that case, I think I will devise a number of tests, both written and practical for you to take over the next week or two." Harry groaned loudly at the thought of the tests, causing the elder of the pair to chuckle.

Despite his protests, Harry agreed that it was necessary. He knew he wouldn't be able to hide anything for long. For one, Hermione was far too observant, and for another thing, he was a very different person with two more years of hard life experiences than his 14 year old self had been.

"Wait a moment, sir, how can we do all of that testing and you still teach your classes?" Harry wondered aloud "and didn't you have classes to teach today?"

"As for today, I cancelled classes and had you excused from your own. Tomorrow, I will begin your testing and will check on you throughout the day," Flitwick answered. "Don't worry, Harry, it will work out. Now, why don't you get some rest, you have a busy night tonight and a long day ahead of you tomorrow."

"Yes sir."

--------

Harry was casually leaning against one of the ramparts at the peak of the astronomy tower, waiting for the arrival of Rita Skeeter. He wasn't particularly worried about the meeting with the nasty reporter. The worst that could come of it was her refusal, some bad press and ultimately her exposure as an illegal Animagus. Harry could deal with that, he felt that it was better than he had endured the first time around. Shortly after midnight, he glimpsed a small insect fly into the tower. He braced himself for the meeting, patting his pocket where the information he intended to impart was written on a parchment spelled by Flitwick so only those who were told what it was by the spell caster or the writer could read it. Turning, Harry witnessed the fascinating site of a grown woman morphing from a beetle.

"Whatever else you think of me Potter," Rita began heatedly, "I am not a whore!"

Momentarily taken aback by her vehemence, Harry took a moment to try to understand what had set off that sentiment. The thoughts 'astronomy tower' and 'midnight' when combined suddenly made her declaration make sense. "I apologize, Ms. Skeeter. That was never my intent. Whatever else you think of me, I fancy myself an honorable man," he waived his hand casually and smirked, "our current predicament not withstanding of course."

"Fine," the woman said, sounding mildly relieved through her obvious anger, "Get to the point then."

"Of course," he pulled the parchment from his pocket and held it out to her, "this is a list of things I wish for you to reveal to the public. You will need to do real research, find proof and submit it to me for approval before publishing it."

Intrigued despite herself, Skeeter asked, "If you know it, why not reveal it straight away?"

"An excellent question," Harry responded, "there are two reasons; the first is that there is a difference between knowing a truth and proving it. The things I wish for you to reveal are the type that require proof in order for the desired result from their revelation to come about. The second is that I want no association to the revelation of the information. My knowing these things raises questions I'm not prepared to answer."

"Just what sort of information is in here?" she asked finally snatching the folded parchment from his grasp, but hesitating to open it.

"I believe information you can take a great deal of enjoyment out of revealing," Harry smiled, revealing the carrot portion of his plan, "like the fact that Bartemius Crouch broke his death eater spawn out of Azkaban several years ago at his dying wife's bequest, held him under the Imperius curse for several years under the care of a house elf named Winky who now works at Hogwarts, only to lose control of him at the Quidditch World cup where he managed to steal my wand and cast the Dark Mark. Furthermore, that he, along with a very much alive Peter Pettigrew ambushed Alastor Moody before the start of term, and the man who is acting as the Defense professor is none other than Barty Crouch Jr. using Polyjuice potion as part of an elaborate plot to resurrect Voldemort."

He knew that the casual revelation of this information in this way touched on just about everything he wanted her to look into. The look on her face told him he had her, at least for now. "So, do you feel up to destroying a bunch of political careers and stirring up the largest scandal of the century?"

Rita smiled predatorily, "Very much so, Mr. Potter," she looked at him seriously, "is this information reliable?"

"I'd state my life and magic on it," Harry replied instantly, causing the woman to nod as if she'd assumed as much. "Now, so long as your coverage of me remains honest and at least neutral and the tournament coverage is balanced between all of the champions, I'll be willing to give you an occasional interview. In addition, I will not protest you reporting on my life; I'm unfortunately a celebrity and as such, little as I like it, my life is news. I will not ask for final say on everything you publish, only on what I want you to reveal; which, by the way, I want done as quickly as possible."

"That seems fair… for blackmail." She replied sardonically, "Though it leaves a lot of uncovered territory. If I report what I believe is fair and accurate information that turns out to be biased or incorrect, through no fault of my own, I'll have violated our agreement."

Harry thought for a moment before coming to a solution, "To start with, double check your sources, when possible; don't use people who are known to hate or be biased against me, people like Malfoy or Parkinson the junior or senior versions, as reliable sources. If something does happen, and through no fault of your own you publish something that's untrue, I'll inform you and you'll issue a tasteful, face saving retraction."

Sensing correctly that their conversation was finished, Rita transformed once more into a beetle and quickly fluttered off, leaving Harry alone once again at the precipice of the tower.

Harry lingered for a while after the witch had left, ordering his thoughts and enjoying the peaceful solitude of the tower. He wasn't certain how long he stood just looking over the lake and forest, but he felt a good deal calmer when he finally started heading back to the Gryffindor dorms.

"Harry?" a female voice called out, breaking the quiet. He turned towards the questioning voice and found the slim, blond form of Lavender Brown sitting at one of the class tables, several pieces of parchment, a quill and an inkwell spread before her.

"Lavender?" he replied, "what are you doing up here this late?"

"I'm working on a predictive star chart; it's a combined Astronomy and Divination project," the girl answered, waving halfheartedly with her quill at the various parchments.

"Sounds…fun?" Harry half asked half stated. Lavender rolled her eyes at him.

"What about you Harry; what are you doing up here? Midnight tryst?"

Harry returned the eye rolling gesture, answering, "not exactly."

Lavender giggled at him; "Oh?" she asked coyly, "So what is the dour hero doing in the middle of the night at the top of the Astronomy tower then?"

"I was thinking, and I'm not a hero," he paused, "do I really seem dour?"

"Well," she fidgeted slightly, "you kind of come off that way sometimes, and the rest of the time you come off as unapproachable to most of us. Your sidekicks make sure of that."

Harry took a seat, interested, "How do they manage that?"

"Well, I'm sure you know that Hermione, Parvati and I don't get along very well," Harry looked at her blankly, "or I guess you don't." She sighed, and explained, "Parvati and I are both purebloods. We don't hold with the blood superiority bollocks, but we are proud of our magical heritage and history and with Parvati, cultural heritage as well."

"Okay, but I don't see…" Harry trailed off as the witch scowled at his interruption.

"Ever since that first night when we tried to include her, Hermione's been standoffish," Lavender continued, "I don't know if she thinks that we're bigots, being ignorant, arrogant or just stupid, but she's always been standoffish with us and she hinted that you'd be the same way. Between her, Ron, and Quidditch, there's really been no way for anyone to approach you."

"I'm sorry," Harry said sincerely, "I didn't know. I can talk to her if you want."

"Don't bother, Harry," Lavender said with a smile, "Parvati and I are okay without being her friend. But it'd be nice if you'd talk to us every now and again, maybe ask somebody to Hogsmeade, or let us, Seamus, Dean and Neville include you. We sometimes seem more divided in our year than any other house."

"Ask somebody to Hogsmeade eh?" he asked, eyeing her speculatively, "I'll keep that in mind." To her credit, Lavender didn't blush at all, merely smirked at him. "It's been an enlightening chat, but I've got a ton of training in the morning."

"Alright, good night then, Harry," she said to him, "I hope we talk again soon."

Harry returned to his dorm thinking about the conversation and was still trying to decide what to do about it if anything when he finally fell asleep.

**Thanks to VoodooLady for her efforts in making me sound less like a chimpanzee that likes to put a bucket on its head and run into things at top speed.**


End file.
